


Force of Nature - English Version

by OpheliaGreif



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Angst, Drama, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Rape Recovery, Reeeeeally slow burn, Romance, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Sports, Steven Universe Has PTSD - Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Suicidal Thoughts, Translation, Violence, jerejean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:34:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 114,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25472461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OpheliaGreif/pseuds/OpheliaGreif
Summary: Jean was rescued by Renee from the nest and thus from a certain death. Years of violence lie behind him, followed by an uncertain future with the Trojans. He has asked for neither of these things and so he decides to put an end to it all before he replaces a known hell with a new one. One that takes the last remnants of his soul with it.However, he didn't reckon with Jeremy.
Relationships: Alvarez/Laila Dermott, Jeremy Knox/Jean Moreau, Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 47
Kudos: 97





	1. The Arrival

**Author's Note:**

> Hello to all of you who might be reading this :),
> 
> welcome to my attempt to give some life to my currently favorite pairing JereJean. After writing Weiß Kreuz and Viewfnder fanfics this will not be easy, because the protagonists are not only completely different, but also have very difficult sensitivities. Topics like torture, rape and suicidal thoughts are very sensitive and difficult to write about, but even more difficult to read, so I ask you: please please take care of yourself. If you feel uncomfortable with any of these topics, you should first join one of the later chapters. Especially in the beginning one of the two protagonists will discuss this very often.
> 
> Let's start with something fundamental. I already loved the author of the three-volume book series "All for the Game - The Foxhole Court" for her Weiß Kreuz-Fanfictions more than a decade ago and so it was only logical that I loved her for AFTG as well. Two and half years ago I devoured the books in record time and satisfied my addiction to them with fanfictions. In the process, I discovered the pairing what fascinates me most: Jeremy Knox, captain and striker of the Trojans and Jean Moreau, backliner for the Ravens. They haven't spoken a word to each other in the books, but as if by some amazing miracle they are the second largest ship in the fandom. ^_^v
> 
> That's why I wanted to write about them. Much of what is to come has already happened in one form or another. I try to give it a new touch, but I won't be able to reinvent the wheel. 
> 
> For the length of the chapters I'm aiming for about five to ten pages and I'll write from both Jeans and Jeremy's point of view. This is a translation of my German fanfic "Force of Nature" (same title... yeeeah I know) so please don't be shy to share constructiv criticism on my writing and my vocabulary. 
> 
> By the way, I'm following Nora's extra content regarding Jean, which can be found here:  
> https://korakos.tumblr.com/post/134309599252/and-the-brutality-that-riko-could-inflict-on-jean
> 
> Now on to the first part. I wish you a lot of fun :)! Comments and kudos are very much appreciated. :3

Eating during the flight had certainly not been one of Jean's wisest decisions. 

Not at all, Jean kept in mind as he knelt with his heart beating in fear in one of the men's toilets at Los Angeles airport, entrusting the contents of his stomach to the bowl so that it could give testimony of his widespread incompetence to the sewage system. How incapable he was of taking care of himself was evidenced by the scars on his body. Not good enough for the Master‘s demands. Not good enough for Riko's demands. Not good enough to have a life of his own. Not good enough to stay in Palmetto.

And now not good enough to not keep his new owner waiting. No wonder Riko had punished him so often for his failure to follow the simplest orders or for his resistance and his attempts to be human.  
Jean closed his eyes and clawed his fingertips into the tiles until it hurt. It hadn't even been two months since Renee had pulled him out of the Ravens' clutches to save him, because in a weak moment of desperate humanity, he had forgotten that as a Moriyama property he had no right to ask to be saved like a normal human.

But she had heard him and had thus thrown him into his own personal hell. 

When he had finally realized what had happened, he had tried to return.  
Three times he had forced himself out of the nurse's bed in pain, nausea and dizziness to get dressed and return to Evermore to escape an even worse punishment that Riko would surely have in store for him. Three times he had been stopped. By the nurse herself, by Renee and finally by Minyard. Three times before he had given up and just waited for the Moriyama's henchmen to come to the nurse's house, kill her and take him away. 

But they hadn't come and before Jean could carry out the thought of putting an end to all this himself, Josten and Day had informed him about things he had hardly thought possible.  
Riko was dead and he would not return to Evermore. His value had sunk to the bottom after Riko had apparently done everything to make him useless with his knife, his kicks and punches. Thereby his body healed and he would surely be able to play with the Trojans. He had already trained and played with more serious injuries. 

Evermore didn't want him anymore as well as the Foxes. They had sold him, even if they didn't call it that. Day had told him that, too. To the Trojans, of all people. The saints of their league, showered with prizes for their community spirit and sportsmanship. The Foxes hadn't wanted him, not that Jean had given any thought to ever wanting to work with this chaotic and self-destructive team. Especially since the sight of Josten reminded him over and over again what a monster he had been on Riko's orders. Every scar on the boy's face and body, which he had inflicted on him to avoid being punished, reminded him that he was no better than his deceased owner. 

He couldn't really stand Day's presence, his self-righteous fixation on Exy and nothing else. The fear Day had for his ability to play outweighed even a human life. Although, no, _his_ human life, Jean rectified. He was human, but property, and it didn't matter what happened to property. But most of all, it didn't matter how Jean felt about it.

That he still had feelings after all these years in Riko's sadistic hands was undisputed and a mystery to Jean. You would have thought that by now all emotions had been tortured out of him and that only pain remained. But no, his feelings were just as much in his way as they were a decade ago. He was desperate, he cherished hope to lose them over and over again. He hated and was angry. He was numb and yet he burned with restlessness and uncertainty. But most of all he was afraid, especially now. 

It was not enough that he had been sold. Unlike when his parents had handed him over to the Moriyamas to settle a debt, he had signed the contract that had now been presented to him. Because that's the way it had to be in America. Officially, there was no property. Unofficially, everyone looked away. No one cared whether the laws were broken and so Jean had only been able to laugh inside during his college law lectures at Evermore. Human trafficking... it happened every day and under the college nose, even here in America. It didn't even require cages or restraints. 

Fear was enough.

Fear was enough for him to sign the contract that would make the coach and captain of the Trojans his new owners and finally set him off on a journey to a new captivity that would be even more hell than Evermore had ever been. As Riko had been a known evil, he knew what to expect from him. Evermore had been a darkness that had swallowed him over and over again with its red and black walls, the lack of daylight and the adjusted rhythm to the perfect training sequences. He had learned to find his way through it, if necessary with broken bones and a slashed body. He had learned that there were no limits when it came to using property. 

But now he did not know whether he could still apply what he had learned. South California was everything that West Virginia was not. The sun had been shining since they were on their landing approach. Even the airport corridors were bright and warm. Jean's body had reacted with goose bumps that still hadn't flattened. Even in the nurse's house there had not been so much warmth. 

Los Angeles was loud and cheerful, people laughed and crowded together, forming a homogenous mass that threatened to crush Jean as soon as he got off the plane.

One of the reasons why he knelt here and why the trembling that had taken possession of his body would not abate, even though he was aware that he could not let his new owners wait any longer. He already had punishment on him, so he did not have to challenge any more broken bones. 

Swaying, Jean rose and flushed the remains of his incapacity down the toilet bowl. With his eyes lowered, he stepped out of the cabin and washed his hands and rinsed his mouth. The captain of the Trojans was known for not caring about girls, so his punishment would probably be the same as Riko‘s. He didn't want to evoke more resentment at the smell of his own bitter vomit when Knox shoved his cock in his mouth. 

Jean pulled the hood of his sweater deeper into his face and shouldered his bag. Hand luggage, that was all of his life. Property had no possession, Riko had taught him over and over again. So his belongings were limited to what Renee, the nurse, Abby was her name, and Josten had given him. Why Josten did such a thing, even though he had tortured him as much as Riko had, was still a mystery to Jean. He hadn't asked, but silently put the smartphone into his pocket, which held the numbers of all of the Foxes and their nurse. Where Jean had suspected that it must have been an accident, Renee had assured him that everything was correct. 

Slowly he walked towards the exit, where Knox was waiting for him.  
He knew that by the time the doors of the departure area opened in front of him, he would have to raise his eyes to recognize the boy, but he still had a few meters to go. Four meters which became three faster than he would have liked, at two the automatic sliding doors opened and with a racing pulse Jean finally stepped through them, briefly raised his eyes and realized with horror that it wasn't that difficult to find Knox. The blond boy was the only one standing at the waiting gate. 

He had made him wait until all the passengers had been picked up.

Jean swallowed and stepped around the barrier, his eyes fixed on the feet of his new captain and owner, hoping that Knox would acknowledge his silent sign of submission.  
"There you are! I was afraid you'd get lost in this chaos of an airport," his captain's voice came towards him and Jean flinched in anticipation of a blow that didn't come. Not even after a bitter, heavy silence came between them and Knox apparently demanded an apology from him. 

Jean bowed his head in silence because he didn't trust his stomach. 

"Is everything OK with you?" Worry replaced the joy in Knox‘ voice and Jean swallowed again. He looked up carefully and settled at the base of Knox‘ neck before he dared to go any further. He had to speak, otherwise it would be a sign of disobedience and that would be an outrage beyond comparison. Jean cleared his dry throat.  
"'It is an honour to be here', he replied with the learned phrase of gratitude and reaped once more a confused silence. Was it not right? Had he already gone too far? Jean looked up and dared to look into Knox's face, which showed him not the expected anger but open confusion and a frozen hand stretched out between them.

"Ahm. Yes... I'm looking forward to meeting you, too," Knox replied, slowly drawing his hand back to himself, his wide lips curled into an embarrassed smile. Now that he had dared to look, Jean really glanced at the boy, whom he had often met at games, and who looked so different from what he had seen on the court in his protective armour and blonde hair sticking sweaty to his head. At least Jean thought he could remember him like this, even if his memories of many games were fragmentary and intertwined, infused with delirious pain. 

What he clearly remembered, however, were the times when Knox, in his function as a striker, had broken through his defenses. The Master had acknowledged this with fury and had punished him accordingly. The scars of the old knife and whip wounds still hurt when it was cold. But this had not been the only hatred Riko had had for the blond boy with chaotic, half long hair. Actually, it was Day's fault. Day and his damned fondness and excitement for the gifted Trojan striker. Day and his infatuation that he hadn't been able to hide from Riko, which he had used as an opportunity to show Day what it meant when men fucked men properly. 

Knox's existence as Day's crush was to blame for rape number three, like the number that branded him as property. How ironic and bitter it was that Kevin, of all people, had instigated his property transfer. 

"Do you only have this bag?" Knox asked into his memories, and Jean could not prevent the spark of hatred flickering at the light-heartedness of the question. Knox had no idea what his existence had caused. He, too, closed his eyes to reality. As if he didn't know that possessions shouldn't have property. As if he didn't have the contract and as soon as they were at the college, he would demand Jean‘s passport.  
Jean knew an answer was expected of him, so he nodded in silence and Knox cleared his throat. Embarrassed, he scratched the back of his head and looked from his bag to him and back again. 

"Shall I take it for you?" he asked, and Jean's grip tightened involuntarily on the strap. He didn’t know what to make of the question. Was it a test, an order, a trap? What did Knox care about except digging through his things and taking away what made him even remotely human, only to regiment and re-equip him as he pleased?

Whatever it was, he had no choice. Jean silently handed over the bag with his belongings to Knox and the boy beamed at him as if he had just won the championship. What might be hiding behind that grin, Jean could only guess, even if he had a very specific idea of what to expect. 

He rememberd very well, how Rico's grin had finally changed from amused to manic to sadistic and had forced merciless torture on him. 

"Shall we? My car is outside and I feel like the parking fee is slowly eating up my monthly fee."  
Jean swallowed at the tormented words. He was to blame for it and surely he would have to make up for this failure as well as for everything else.  
"I apologise," he muttered with a downcast look and moved on to Knox, who stared at him in surprise.

"Oh please no, don’t you take the credit for that," he swayed and stroked his way through the blonde hair, which didn't really get any tidier. Jean noticed how tanned Knox was. So at least his captain spent a lot of time in the sun of South California. Maybe Jean was even allowed to look out the window one or two times or even enjoy the warmth when he had earned it. Now he would certainly lock him up in the dormitory for weeks. Riko would have done that. 

Silently he followed him through the airport to the parking garage, where they walked to an old, rickety car, a brand Jean had never heard of and which he didn't want to get into at first. But Knox left him little choice when he put his bag into the creaking trunk with a wide smile and unlocked the passenger door for him. He had to pull the door itself open with a tug. Jean had the suspicion that the metallic screeching was not part of the normal equipment of the car. 

"Yes, it is old, sluggish and it squeals, but it drives," Knox explained, as if he had seen the doubt on his face, which Jean strongly doubted. Riko had taught him for years to control his emotions and sensitivities towards strangers and not to let anyone else participate in their little games of torture and imprisonment. After all, it was nobody's business if the property suffered.  
He raised his eyes and met again the embarrassed grin with which Knox now pointed into the interior of his car.

Obedient and carefully trying to keep his distance, Jean sat down on the passenger seat and flinched as a spring bored into the back of his thigh. It did not hurt him very much, only his thigh, because like his entire upper body, it was sore from Riko's blows. The bruise that now hit the pointed spring made him flinch and groan in surprise, much to the obvious horror of his captain.

Knox bent over to him jerkily, his hands on Jean‘s shoulder and thigh, his face so close that Jean was tickled by the unruly hair. 

Not that Jean was interested in Knox‘s hair at the very moment. Out of instinctive reflex, he had retreated, at least as far as his current position allowed. With his eyes wide open, he stared at Knox's face that was so close to him and for a few beats he had the feeling that his heart had simply stopped. Now the other boy would beat him. He had lulled him until Jean wasn't paying attention and now he would pay for his impertinence in the dark seclusion of the parking garage. 

Jean swallowed in panic and a sound no less fearful escaped his lips. "I'm sorry," he pressed out, nothing more than a hoarse whisper. "I'm really sorry and it won't happen again," he pleaded fervently and could not help but fix his eyes on the blue eyes staring at him as if he had just spoken of the end of the world. For endless seconds nothing happened at all, then Knox straightened up so quickly that Jean flinched again in anticipation of a blow. 

Step by step Knox retreated back with his face twisted in disbelief. Like a drowning man, Jean clung to every movement, every sign of an impending explosion, but nothing came.  
"Jean, are you all right? I didn't mean to...," Knox began, then faltered, more confused than angry. "That's a spring in my car sticking out, it's not your fault, you don't have to apologize. Why are you...?"

Jean could tell him so many things, in that moment. Things were on the tip of his tongue that he had to swallow by force. Another excuse was on his tongue, but he swallowed that, too. Knox had just told him that this was not wanted. Illogically even. 

"Okay," Jean finally replied, to break the silence between them somehow and to stop Knox from continuing to stare at him as if he were a rare insect.  
"Okay? Really?" Doubtfully, his captain frowned and Jean nodded almost violently.  
"I... don't feel it," he lied, and basically, it didn't hurt him as much as many other things that had been drilled into his body.  
"Really?" 

The nodding was easier for him, Jean found, and he was rewarded almost instantly by Knox breaking away from him after another long second of staring and walking around the car. With a bashful smile the blonde boy dropped into the driver's seat and rammed the key into the lock. After two attempts, the monster jumped on and Jean hurried to close the door, which was more difficult than he first thought. But that was nothing compared to his inability to fasten his seatbelt with shaky hands.  
It took him four attempts, under Knox's watchful eye, to get the metal pin into the holder provided and to let the belt snap into place. 

"Let's go then," Knox grinned again with his everlasting smile, which Jean believed less and less from minute to minute, and drove off into the busy rush hour traffic. After countless lane changes, Jean wondered whether he would really be able to make it to the University of South California alive. 

The question of whether this really mattered dominated his thoughts as they finally took the exit. In the nest he had resolved to end all of this after his graduation. He would have achieved at least one thing in his life before he would put an end to his life and the hell it would bring him.  
He had temporarily given up that plan after Renee rescued him from Riko's clutches. In the sanctuary of Abby's house, for a brief period of time, he had dared not to think about it. But at least since it had become clear that they would sell him to USC, he had come up with another plan, far away from the nonsensical dreams that he might live. 

What was a college degree he couldn't use after his studies against another hell? What were more years of suffering in comparison to a quick end?

It was easy for him to weigh up and so Jean, had decided that he would give himself two months from the time he arrived in South California until he would put an end to it. Two months until they were probably so lax with their controls that he would have access to knives or sharp objects or not be monitored, controlled and locked up every minute oft he day. 

Two more months, and then all this would finally end.

~~~~~~  
To be continued.


	2. The puzzle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On to the second part. ^_^v Thank you for your comments and kudos, dear readers. Thank you very much: :3

Jeremy really hoped that Jean wouldn’t see his blatant nervousness, not to mention the questions simmering beneath his thin already thin layer of self-control.   
In fact, those questions had been present ever since Coach Wymack had contacted Rhemann. His coach had then contacted him and they had discussed thoroughly the need of another backliner and even more than that. They had discussed whether they needed the best backliner in their league, who came from the team using questionable methods and playing brutal games and whose playing philosophy, as they all knew at first hand, was more than grim.

Jeremy had often played against Jean and had been stopped by the backliner from scoring in against his team. The opposing player had been a brute force of nature and had challenged Jeremy's ambition to break through his lines with every fight they had fought on the court. On more than one occasion Jeremy‘s reward for his efforts had been a crash with his ass on the ground after one the fights with the number three of the Ravens, just barely on the edge of legal play without being carded yellow or red for it.   
Apart from that, there had been no mentionable contact, so Jeremy's experience with Jean was limited to playing against him, meeting briefly at the handshaking after their games and at the banquets where he had dared to throw one or two looks in Jean’s direction.

The closed off, never smiling, dismissive and tense person he had seen there had definetly not stood in front of him in the airport terminal. The boy who had been standing in front of him had been pale and frightened, to the point of almost panicking when he had tried to save him from his murderous seat spring. The hood Jean had pulled deep into his face could not completely hide the injuries he had received in Evermore.

Kevin had superficially described these injuries and asked him to keep an eye on Jean. The shocking extent of the cruelty had prevented Jeremy from fully understanding what had been said to him. Kevin's request never to leave Jean alone because it was against everyything Jean had been taught in Evermore didn’t meet his approval one single bit, but Kevin's insistence that Jean would feel better with company than without was enough for Jeremy. For now.

Time would tell the rest. 

His plan to give Jean a warm welcome with his cheerfulness and to assure him that nobody would hurt him here evaporated the moment he saw the walking death on two legs, who came out of the terminal. According to the sour smell of vomit, there was a valid reason for Jean's delay, and Jeremy's cheerfulness had abruptly given way to a profound uncertainty about how he would not frighten Jean, where apparently his presence was already enough. 

It was obvious that Jean was afraid of him and that made Jeremy more than helpless. He would‘ve preferred to reassure Jean again and again that he would not hurt him and that the boy didn't have to worry. That he was safe here and nobody would hurt him, that Raven's methods were neither his style nor that of his team. Jeremy instinctively felt that he would scare Jean with such an admission and mentioning of his old team even more, so he concentrated on the everyday things that needed to be done.

Not killing them in Los Angeles traffic, for example. To get back safely to the USC. To go shopping with Jean, because the small bag the boy was carrying couldn't possibly hold all of the essentials he needed for his everyday life. He should show him the campus and everything Jean needed to know for his coming term and classes. And he had to clean up the chaos of their shared little student apartment, which he had left in the haste of leaving for the airport, now that he had a roommate again.

Jeremy groaned silently.

"What are your majors?" Jeremy asked when the unusual silence became too much for him and he saw his passenger flinching in the corner of his eye. He wasn’t sure if it had been the question or the volume of his words and Jeremy suspected the latter. Sometimes he had a tendency to turn up his volume right out of nervousness. It wasn’t much of a problem in Alvarez‘s and Laila’s presence, if anything it was a way to make himself heard. In the heavy silence of his car... Jeremy sighed.

"Economy and Economic Law," Jean replied after a moment of contemplation and Jeremy whistled appreciatively but more quietly this time.   
"This and Exy? How do you do that? Don’t you need to sleep?" he asked jokingly, glancing briefly at the backliner, whose bandaged hands had clenched into fists.   
"Evermore days have sixteen hours, eight for training and eight for study. That is sufficient for a degree."

At first, Jeremy believed that had been a joke, but that was quickly disillusioned by the complete lack of irony or sarcasm. Surprised, he gasped.  
"What about free time?"  
It was evident that Jean was unable to handle the question from his stormily furrowed brow and the obvious restlessness that made the boy next to Jeremy squirm in his seat.   
Jeremy came to a halt at a red light and smiled reassuringly at Jean - at least he hoped so. "Hey, it's okay. It was just a joke. You don't have to open up out to me if you don’t want to," Jeremy distracted Jean from the subject and grey eyes flitted from the floor of the car to the base of his neck. Jean himself remained silent.

"How many hours do USC days have?" Jean finally surprised him with a first, interested question. Jeremy nodded.   
"It depends. Our first training session in the morning will be from seven till nine o'clock. Afterwards we head to our courses. There are extra training hours every second afternoon. We don’t train on game weekends, otherwise we are on our court every second Saturday morning and afternoon. Aside from that there is plenty of free time and we can concentrate on our studies or parties. Depending on the party, the days are therefore shorter or longer."

The silence that reappeared between them was accompanied by Jean's incredulous look, which was definetly accompied surprised bewilderment.  
"Is it too much?" Jeremy asked, to elicit another reaction from Jean, and indeed. The stunnedness was a willing accomplice to break the iron silence of his passenger. In all its glory, it apparently made the other boy more open to further emotions that gave Jeremy a glimpse of the backliner sitting next to him. 

He hadn't expected the contemptuous snort, yet he welcomed it. 

"What?", he asked with a grin, and was actually rewarded by the sight of a pair of grey eyes that measured him for a second before their owner apparently changed his mind.   
"I will be able to fulfill my contract." There it was again, that strange formality that might have suited an official press event. Jeremy's smile softened.   
"First of all, I hope that you are going to enjoy your stay with us," he replied conciliatory, unintentionally and unknowingly ending the conversation until they drove into the parking lot of the dormitories. 

He felt that he had said something terribly bad, but honestly, Jeremy didn't have the courage to ask what it might have been. 

~~**~~

Jeans new, personal hell was a complete chaos of red and gold colours, flooded with light, completely jumbled and divided into a bedroom, a living room and a kitchen, which undoubtedly bore Knox's signature. Jean wasn‘t sure if he had ever seen such a lively apartment. Certainly not in Evermore. There everything had its place and nothing, absolutely nothing nonsensical or distracting could be found in the dark hallways of the underground dormitory without sunlight. 

Jean knew only too well why. Sunlight distracted the players from essential things: training, study and torture. Sunlight gave hope and hope was the root of weakness. Weakness was forbidden to them in their pursuit of perfection.   
Jean had cherished and locked up those rare moments when he could catch a glimpse of the sun so he could feed on it when everything black and dark was about to collapse upon him.

Now he was almost killed by sunlight. Like a vampire, he avoided every ray that could shine directly into his face. Like a snowman, he feared the heat that penetrated his clothing and chased away the inner cold that protected him from what was to come. The sun and the warmth that he had loved and longed for before so many years now became an object of hatred for him, a thing whose abundance was destructive and sadistic. 

Of course, he slept again in the captain's rooms, who would have easy access to him. _The team captain's whore_ , it whispered spitefully inside him. _Of course. You're not good for anything else, you worthless piece of property. Just the number three, it's not enough for anything better. Just be thankful we kept you alive so far._

"Coach and I have decided that it would be best if you stayed with me so I can give you a complete college orientation tour and support you in the beginning. The USC can be a bit chaotic at times and it doesn't hurt to have someone at your side who already knows all the secrets of this wonderful college. Since I don't have a roommate at the moment, I thought it would be a good idea for you to move in with me...for the sake of simplicity. If you want to room somewhere else, we can arrange that too, but it would take some time," the boy at his side explained.

As if it made a difference whether Knox had direct access to him or whether he was waiting for him in the locker room or shower. Or torturing him in the basement where nobody would hear Jean screaming.   
Since the house was meant for the Trojans, it wouldn't matter if he lived in someone else's room. The team would already have been kept on track by the coach and captain, just as they had been urged to keep up appearances on the outside. They had won the Day Spirit Award eight times in a row and it was not because the team was undisciplined and couldn't promote themselves. 

Especially since it didn't matter where he spent the last weeks of his life.

Jean waited in silence for his next instructions, while Knox cleared his things out of the way with a smile and stacked them on a pile that was even more chaotic than before.   
"Sorry, I overslept this morning and put everything just out of the way. I promise this won't happen again. Would you like to unpack your stuff so we can see what you need and do some serious grocery shopping?"

Jean really hated the boy's words. Did he want to? No. He hadn't wanted to go to America to pay off debts his mother had incurred with the Moriyamas. He hadn't asked to play Exy to survive. He didn't want a single second of torture. But no one had ever cared about that before.   
Jean frowned. That wasn't entirely true. Renee cared. Renee asked about his will, his desires, his feelings. She didn’t belong to the line of his owners.

She owned his _soul_. 

His body might be passed around, but he had freely given his soul to her, his angel, his saviour. She had taken him out of Riko's clutches and seen him as a human being, as no one else had done for a long time. 

It had been a coincidence that he had turned his attention to her during one of the banquets, when Riko had dealt with Kevin and left him alone for a few moments. Drawn to her by colorful hair and her gentle smile, he had watched and studied her, drawing comparisons in his mind to her player personality and to the young woman standing on the other side of the room in an elegant, long dress. 

Infinity separated them and yet Renee had overcome it. Step by step she had come closer to him, unstoppable and determined. His usual hostility had not stopped her from starting a conversation with him. Word for word she had broken down his resistance and barriers and got him so far that he finally accepted the smartphone she gave him. Jean had resisted for a long time because he knew what the consequences would be if it was discovered. She had been more stubborn than him and finally he had found that damn thing in his coat. How it was possible for him to keep it secret from Riko was still a mystery, even now.

Renee had started to write him messages. Short texts, questions about his wellbeing, about unimportant things. Jean had initially refused to answer her just as he had refused to answer the mobile phone and had failed again.   
Her stubbornness had finally elicited a first answer from him. 

A second answer followed the first, then a third, fourth and finally he had sent her messages whenever he could. As it was on the day he had thought that he was going to die.

_Help me._

Two words he had written with already bleeding fingers and broken ribs, shortly after Riko had torn his hair out for the first time. _Help me_ he had written, in the feverish assumption that she could actually manage to save him and keep him alive somehow. It had been no more than the cry of the little boy he had once been, begging his father and mother to help him when the Moriyamas' guards had prevented him from returning to France with them.

At that time Jean had not really believed that Renee would be able to rescue him, but she had taught him better. Like an avenging angel she came upon the Ravens and abducted him from Evermore. And how did he say thank you?   
By trying to escape from the nurse's house three times before Josten had told him that Riko was finally dead. By almost breaking her heart with his words of hate and anger, that she had no idea what she was talking about, that she didn't know who she was messing with and whether she really believed that she was doing him any good. 

The tears swimming in her eyes had been a terrible sight and he had vowed to never hurt her again. She had easily accepted his desperate apologies with her gentle smile, but at the same time had taken his promise that he would try to heal and that he would not return to the Ravens. Never again and under no circumstances.  
Jean had agreed to this, but only to see the smile return to her face and make amends for his guilt.

"Jean?"

Flinching he returned to the present. His heart beat quickened when he realized that he had not paid any attention to his captain. Jean swallowed. The time in the nurse's house had apparently reduced his discipline and his instinct for self-preservation to zero. Again, he had no choice but to respectfully lower his head, an apology on his lips, which came way too late and was stalled accordingly. 

"No! No, no, no, don't apologize," Knox interrupted him and the hand waving at the edge of his field of vision frightened Jean more than the other man's loud words did. He recoiled instinctively much to his captain’s obvious dismay. "You were lost in your thoughts and I didn't notice that. I'm so sorry!" 

Jean looked completely perplexed at his captain’s face just to be sure that what he had just heard really corresponded with what his brain was telling him. Why did Knox apologize to him? Was this a test? Jean tried rather helplessly to find an answer for that, but the blonde boy was already miles ahead of him. 

"You could unpack now and then we'll see what you need. Our coach gave me his credit card in case we need it."  
Knox grinned, but Jean didn't feel like grinning at all. Buying him new thing was just another debt he had to work off.   
"I've enough," he croaked, cursing his voice for not sounding as dismissive as he had planned. Showing weakness only opened the gates to new torture.   
The fact that his careful objection was wiped away as if it didn't even exist irritated Jean more than the raised eyebrow. 

"Blanket?" Knox asked and Jean painfully recalled that he had nothing like that. It was warm here and would probably stay warm for a while, so he didn't need it. It was enough if he covered himself with his jacket. Jean shook his head.  
"Pillow?" A pillow would be nice, but even that was an unnecessary expense. He could use his sweater for this. Again he denied.   
"Clothes?" He had clothes with him for two weeks, which he could wash if necessary. The nurse had given them to him as a gift because Renee had taken him out of the nest with nothing more than what he was wearing. None of his actual clothing was black and Jean had developed a cautious preference and love for the dark blue hooded sweater Renee had given him.

He wore it even now and really hoped that he would be allowed to keep it. When he looked at the Trojan’s colours, that hope faded quickly. Red and gold were diametrically opposed to the blue of his sweater. Perhaps Knox would agree that he could at least hide it in the wardrobe if he was not allowed to wear it. Or use it as a pillow.

"And, of course, food. I'm afraid I only have unhealthy stuff in the fridge right now, summer vacation and all. If there's anything else you'd like, we should definitely go shopping."  
Jean had seen the kitchen when he came in and had noticed that it had been used. What that meant in concrete terms only just dawned on him right now. In the nest they had eaten according to a strict athlete's diet plan. He had had neither the choice nor the responsibility to take care of his own food. The fact that he now had to take it into his own hands presented him with an almost impossible task, since he did not know how to prepare food himself.

To ask would reveal weakness that would be used against him.

"What do you like to eat?"  
Jean had hoped that this very question would not come up. There was no good answer to it, not for him.   
"The meal plan is sufficient," he replied, evoking confusion, which he did not understand.   
"This will be problematic. We have no meal plan," Knox said with the same confusing gesture of uncertainty. Or whatever the hand was doing in the back of Knox‘s neck there. "We'll eat in the dining hall if it's convenient, otherwise we'll cook ourselves. On weekends and vacations, usually the latter."

A disbelieving sound escaped Jean’s lips. How could the Trojans maintain their fitness when they were eating such a wrong and harmful diet, even not following a diet plan? To feed themselves was a lack of discipline that his Master would never have allowed him to have. Nor was eating unhealthy food.   
"I...", Jean began, searching for the right words that would meet Knox's demand for an answer and that would not ascribe to him any more weakness than he already had. He didn't get very far when his cell phone rang and his head jerked towards the sound.

Horrified, Jean stared at his bag in which the phone was hidden in a crease at the bottom, hoping that it would not be taken from him. He could bury that hope now, he knew that, and only because he hadn't thought of turning off the sound or turning off the entire mobile phone.   
So it was only fitting that it was Renee, of all people, who was calling him. Probably to ask if he had arrived safely and how he was doing ins Los Angeles. Angry at himself, Jean stared at his bag and listened to the light tone, his hands clenched to painful fists. 

"Your phone is ringing," his captain said not helpfully at all behind him and Jean lowered his head. He knew it was time to apologize for having smuggled something in that he was not allowed to have. He knew that he should show remorse but he did not find the strength to do so, not after he had already had serious problems with the missing meal plan. Surrenderingly he stepped out and opened the zipper. With trembling fingers he took out the smartphone and turned to Knox who measured him questioningly.

"Aren't you going to answer it?" his captain asked, pointing to the small device between them.   
"May I?" Jean asked quietly and Jeremy smiled.   
"Of course. Sorry to keep you from answering your phone, I'll be in the next room if you need me. Have fun!" Before Jean could really apologize, Knox had left the bedroom and closed the door behind him. Jean stared stunned after him before he hastily touched the sign for accept and pushed it to the right as Renee had shown him.   
He pressed the phone to his ear. "Hello?" he asked, hoping that Renee was still there.  
"Hello Jean," he heard her smile even from a distance and closed his eyes. He wished he could still be with her. If only he could hide near behind forever and feed on her gentleness and strength. "How are you?"

Jean wondered whether it was worth lying to her or whether she would not see through it immediately. He came to the conclusion that she knew him too well for him to get away with it.   
"Not good," he whispered truthfully.  
"Why?" The softness in her voice masked her iron demand for honesty. He owed her so much, how could he not give in to it?  
"It's...different," he agreed on what he could safely say when Knox listened from the other side of the door.   
"Hotter?"  
"Yes."  
"How was the flight?"  
"Okay.“  
"And was Jeremy there to pick you up?“  
"Yeah. I'm at the apartment building now.“  
"What's it like?“

As Renee had shown him, Jean switched the audio call to a video call. It took a few seconds, then the two-way connection was established and he saw her and her reassuring smile.   
"Hey, Mr. Big."  
He didn't say anything back, esspecially not to that ridiculous nickname she had given him, but he didn't have to. Apparently, she saw everything she had to know in his eyes and nodded calmly.   
"Go ahead, show me your room. I want to know if it's prettier than my own."  
Jean was aware that Renee was using his indoctrination to listen to orders to get her way. It was no big deal, on the contrary. Obediently, he turned the phone around and filmed the chaotic bedroom and the bed he would inhabit. Red and gold were the colours that dominated the room and in all their glory they hurt his eyes. The chaos of personal belongings, all of which would give a clue to the boy waiting outside, caused Jean a restlessness he didn't really understand. 

After he had finished the tour, he turned the mobile phone back to himself. It was nice to see Renee one last time. She sighed heavily.  
"Jean, what's wrong?"  
"He'll take it away," Jean whispered so softly, that hopefully Knox wouldn't hear it. Renee frowned. She, too, lowered her volume.   
"What do you mean?"  
"Knox. He'll take my phone away."

Riko would have done it, Jean knew that. He had not been allowed anything to distract him from his tasks as a player. He had hidden it from Riko like a precious treasure. The fact that Knox now knew two hours after his arrival that such a device was available to Jean was a disaster, even if Renee didn't see it that way. Gently and forbearingly she smiled.   
"No, Jean, he will not. He isn‘t Riko."  
Jean remained silent. They had already talked about the captain of the Trojans and had both realized that they didn't really know him. Only from Days' stories, which were one-sidedly influenced. What was heard about Knox was entirely positive, but Jean didn't believe it. Not a single bit. 

She sighed. "I know you don't believe me, but give him a chance. He won't do it."  
Jean pursed his lips brusquely and glanced at the door that stood between him and the Trojan. A small but effective obstacle. Almost hastily, he turned back to Renee.   
"They cook themselves and eat in the dining hall. He asked me what my favourite food is." His small image in the upper right-hand corner of the screen looked as stunned and frightened as Jean felt. Helplessly he stared at Renee, who sighed again, deeper than before. 

"Would you like me to send you recipes that you can recook?"  
Jean shook his head miserably. "I don't know how to get to a grocery store and I don't know how to look for the food that belongs to the recipe."  
"You could ask Jeremy."  
Mutely, Jean shook his head and mauled his lower lip between his teeth, as he always did when he needed distraction. "I can't do that."  
Renee was about to say something, but apparently she changed her mind at the last moment. "It will get better, Jean Moreau. Trust me. Jeremy is a good man and a good captain. He will treat you right."

Jean trusted Renee blindly, that was not the issue. Who he didn't trust were other people. Men especially. Captains even less so, especially not those who held his contract in their hands.   
But as much as he trusted Renee... why should he discuss with her? She knew nothing about the two months, and he wasn’t going to tell her. No one who was not involved knew, so no one could stop him. He would make it easier on himself if he nodded now and postponed the subject indefinitely. He knew that Knox would eventually drop his mask. He knew there was nothing good in an open smile like this. He knew he would bleed again. 

It was only two months.

Jean nodded. "Okay. I'll try," he lied, hoping convincingly enough that Renee perceived his words as hesitant, not as pretentious. She did him the favor of not saying anything, even though her eyes told him otherwise. "I have to go, he's probably waiting, and I already made him wait at the airport."   
She saw through that too with playful ease. "Of course, Mr. Big. Go to him and get back to me as soon as it’s possible. Okay?"  
"Okay."

As always, when they phoned or sent messages back and forth, she showed him the victory sign and, as always, he raised his eyebrows in all that childish joy. He silently disconnected and stared at his now mute cell phone before turning to face the door. Taking a deep breath, Jean put the phone in the pocket of his jeans and pressed down the handle.

Not far from him, Knox stood, bent over a table with a puzzle, which Jean had first noticed with a quick glance. He had not looked at it more closely and now he wished that he would have done that. A small number of pieces had already been put together, while the vast majority were still scattered unruly around the motif, which was a picture of Day.   
As it seemed, today was the day of disbelief and Jean had to pull himself together with an iron will he had not thought he would have not to sweep the puzzle off the table. 

What he could not suppress was the aborted snort that drew Knox's attention to him. Abruptly the other boy turned around and then pointed at the corpus delicti with a bashful smile.

"This was a gift from Alvarez and I thought I'd get it started when you got here, so you wouldn't feel so far from home when you got it here... if only as a puzzle."

Jean knew that agreeing and letting it go would be a wise choice. It would be better for him. But the reasoning, mixed with the joyful hope and expectation he saw in the face of his captain, allowed nothing but unbridled disbelief, which he knew was clearly written on his face. He couldn't believe how wrong Knox was with his assumption, and involuntarily he wondered what Wymack and Day had actually told the Trojans.

"I..." Jean looked for words that wouldn't come to him. His gaze fell back on the puzzle, rather on the pieces that divided Day in his Exy uniform into many small pieces. Actually, it was highly ironic, because just as torn and incomplete as the puzzle was in front of him, was the original himself. 

"Hey, what about erasing your homesickness a little by getting you acquainted with everything important here in this apartment and on campus and then we'll go shopping?" Knox asked and Jean silently nodded. He wanted to get out, because he didn't want to be in the same room as Day, even if it was just with a ridiculous puzzle.

~~~~~~

_To be continued._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now to something entirely trivial: In the German version, Renees nickname for Jean is "Großer", which means "big boy". In Englisch this sounds a little bit cringy so I changed the translation to "Mr. Big" and yes, it's a allusion to "Sex and the City". :) 
> 
> Of course kudos, comments and criticism are very welcome. :3


	3. The epitome of cheese

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for all your Kudos :3. They are very much appreciated!

To be told or to experience something first hand were two different things, as Jeremy now bitterly realized.

He had his own personal shadow, who was a neck hair-raising yard behind him and who refused to walk beside or even in front of him. In addition to that Jean only replied to directly asked questions and all further attempts at small talk were rigorously ignored by the ex-Raven. During Jeremy’s sightseeing tour of their house and campus this had been less of a problem than now, as they were at the nearest larger grocery store.

Jean didn’t took his eyes off him which made Jeremy even more nervous than he had been on their way from LAX to USC. If his shadow had at least talked about what he would like to eat and drink, he probably would fare better. But to be confronted with a wall of silence that was even harder to break than any defensive line the Ravens had ever built in their games against the Trojans was more than everything frustrating. 

Jeremy sighed. Not for the first time since they had entered the store and – most likely – not for the last. 

They stood at the fruit and vegetable aisle and there was only silent denial on the pale face half hidden by the dark blue hood of Jean’s sweater.  
"Well," Jeremy was encouraging himself more than it really served to get Jean's attention. "Any requests for dinner tonight?"  
The other boy's hostile body language and the silent shake of the head were probably to prevent him from asking any further questions, but desperation fueled Jeremy’s stubborn character treat more than fear.

"Is there anything you don't like to eat?"  
"No."  
Jeremy smiled tentatively. "Then would you like me to surprise you?"  
There it was again, the uncertainty he had seen at the airport and he wondered if it was because of his playful tone or the question itself.  
"You cook your own food?" Jean apparently surprised himself with his mouth spilling out questions, and Jeremy enjoyed the sight of the gray eyes measuring him. He still wondered about the question, because hadn't he told Jean just a few hours ago that they had to cook for themselves? He did….as far as he remembered.  
"Well, seems that I have no other choice. The alternative would be frozen pizza and as I said, the dining hall is closed on weekends. Can you cook?"  
"No." The denial was almost silent, certainly repressed and unsure. Jeremy understood. Slowly and much too late, but finally, he understood. 

The meal plan. The more than restrained answers.

"Have you ever stood in front of a stove?"  
Jean frowned. "Yes. In the nurse's home."  
"Did you cook or helped to cook?"  
"Neither."  
A surprised sound left Jeremy. "But you know what you like?"  
There it was again, the completly neutral expression on Jean’s face. "I have no preferences."  
Jeremy frowned. "Come on, everybody has preferences. Sweet, sour, salty, spicy, fat?"  
"No."  
"Your favorite ice cream?"  
"No."  
"Cake?"  
"No."  
"Pizza?

Silence. 

Jeremy groaned and collapsed in near agony, his hands stretched out towards his new backliner, who seriously tried to make him believe that he had no love for the really good sides of life and absolutely no preferences.  
"Seriously?", he emphasized the first syllable in his best, tearful voice and looked up at Jean, who, tall and broad-shouldered as he was, towered over him. "Don't lie to me, this can't be real!"

Jean didn’t deign to answer his complaints, so Jeremy decided it was time to use his secret weapon and trained his expression to big eyes and a sadly contorted mouth. "Come on, tell me, what do you like?"  
"Silence." The word escaped Jean annoyed and unfiltered, and Jeremy realized that this was the most honest and spontaneous emotion he had encountered so far. He grinned and congratulated himself for having coaxed the other boy out of his muteness, especially since the answer had something akin to biting humor. 

And he appreciated humour. Very much. Jeremy raised his eyebrows.  
"Hrmph. Okay. Look, let’s make a deal. I'll stop bugging you and cook us something delicious and in return you pick out a pillow, a blanket, sheets, duvet covers and toiletries. How about that?"

Jean was not at all convinced by the logic of that particular deal, as Jeremy could clearly see. The boy weighed up the pros and cons internally, furrowing his brows.  
"I have no money. I can't refund it in the near future," Jean finally replied so quietly that Jeremy had trouble understanding the mumbled words. When he did, the pity that came over him brutally and unrestrained almost broke his heart.  
"Oh, God, Jean. You don't have to pay for any of this. The basic equipment is on our Coachs card, after all you are part of the team now. As soon as your scholarship stuff is done, you'll pay for your own stuff, but as long as the administration is snailing around, all your expenses are on his card. Don't worry about that. It's all taken care of, it really is."

Jean seemed to scrutinize every word he had just said. He frowned under his hood and Jeremy waited patiently for him to come to a conclusion. "Does he want anything in return?" Jean finally asked and the strange undertone in that question kept Jeremy from approaching an answer with biting humor, as he would have done with Alvarez or Laila. Something about the question struck him as other than funny, and so he shrugged his shoulders more helplessly than anything else. 

"No? Coach cares about his players. And he knows that it's certainly not easy for you to change colleges in the middle of the year. He wants to make it a little easier for you. Don’t worry about it."  
As anxious as he was to create calm and serenity with his words, Jean couldn't seem to comprehend them. At least Jeremy interpreted the slightly tilted head as a mute question. 

"Do you want something in return?"  
Jeremy sighed. "No, Jean.“ He paused. „Although... yes. Yes, yes, I do want something. I want you to choose the most comfortable pillow and the snuggliest blanket and sheets you can find. And I want you to tell me if you don't like something I've cooked and why you don't like it. This is the quid pro quo I would like."

Jean looked at him as if he had lost his mind, and for the most part, that look resembled the one his new team member had been giving the Kevin Day puzzle. Completely incomprehensible, barely disguised bewilderment. Jeremy grinned and streched out his hand. Carefully and slowly this time, because he had learned, after all.  
"Deal?"  
It took some time for Jean to analyse Jeremy‘s gesture and his motives before he apparently came to a conclusion. As he did, Jean slowly raised his right hand, always ready to pull it back immediately. Gently squeezing the still bandaged fingers, Jeremy smiled his best, most assuring smile. 

Reluctanly he released the cold but clammy fingers and nodded back to the grocery store. "Pillows and blankets?" 

Jean turned to the pointed direction, and if Jeremy wasn't very much mistaken, the other boy had actually rolled his eyes. 

~~**~~

The sun cast its first tentative rays through the small bathroom window and shone in a warm red Jean had never seen before. For a moment he enjoyed the surreal peace of this moment and allowed himself to imagine what it would have been like if he could have seen such sunrises every day. Would he have become a different person from the one he was now? How would he be if every good feeling hadn‘t been beaten, tortured and raped out of him? Would he have had friends, a person he loved? Would he have lived in Marseilles, gone to university, played Exy at all? 

Jean didn't know and the fresh morning light that promised hope gave way to a deep hopelessness that made it clear to him that he would never have any of this. Not even the apparent friendliness of his new captain, who had cooked him food, changed that. Knox had bought him things that Jean had never wanted to accept. But he had not been able to refuse without becoming unkind or even hostile. He could not afford that, not to Knox. So he had stood there silently while his captain had loaded everything into the car that was supposed to make his stay here more pleasant. 

As if. 

While Jean had unpacked and put the things away, Knox had made dinner for both of them and had served him something that certainly was the paramount of calories. Jean's stomach had cramped up in frightened anticipation before the first bite, but somehow he had managed to eat the meal in front of him. Even though he couldn't quite remember how he had managed to cope with the amount of pasta, cheese, breaded meat, mozzarella and parmesan.  
This went against everything he had ever eaten in Evermore and Jean still swallowed at the thought of how it became more and more in his mouth.

That's not the only reason he spent the night awake. He had spent the quiet, dark hours of the night sitting under his blanket with his back to the head of the bed, taking turns watching Knox and the night sky. Apparently the talkative captain of the Trojans couldn't keep still even in his sleep, as much as he turned around every few minutes, squeezing his pillow, muttering incomprehensible words, before he sighed and went to deep sleep again. 

After scaring the hell out of Jean for the first time, he had gradually gotten used to the procedure and had let himself be lulled by the ever-recurring rhythm. That and the stars, which slowly and unwaveringly drew him into their spell. 

So on the first night Knox had not yet forced himself upon him but that didn't change anything about the condoms Jean had seen when he had put his things away in the bathroom. They were right on top of Knox‘s dresser in the bathroom, omnipresent and unambiguous. Jean knew that. Riko had also equipped the players he had sent to his bed with protection. He had forbidden to infect Jean with an illness that could make him unusable. So what else would the condoms be for?

When the light in the room changed from a deep black to a soft grey, Jean got up and went into the bathroom to at least have a door to lock between himself and Knox. Not that he wouldn't open it immediately if his captain ordered him to, but it was good to know that he still had the opportunity to keeping it closed. 

Jean let his eyes wander over the toiletries he had bought, which now all seemed to belong to him because he had chosen them. Less because he liked the scent, but more because there was nothing, absolutely nothing black on them. Now that Riko was dead, he no longer wanted to be bound by the customs of Evermore. For the remaining weeks of his life Jean wanted to have the colours around him that he liked - if he was allowed to. Apparently he was, because the shower gel had a deep shade of blue that resembled that of his sweater. Knox hadn't objected to his choice and had only given him one of his wide smiles. The shampoo was light blue, the toothpaste white and turquoise, even the sunscreen had equal amounts of green and blue. 

_Sunscreen._

It had taken Jean a moment to understand what was on the bottle Knox had put in his hand with a heavy nod. In all his years at Evermore, he hadn't needed that. Now it seemed to be the most important thing and without this particular bottle he would have been lost here in South California. At least that was, what Knox told him, whose eyes were too suspicious of his hood, sweater and pale face.

Sunscreen meant that Knox wouldn't lock him in the basement, which was accessible to everyone and was apparently a mixture of a laundry, hobby, bicycle storage, storage and party room. Sunscreen meant that his world would not be limited to this colorful, chaotic apartment and the Exy Court, but apparently also to the burning midday sun outside and crowded grocery stores whose questionable music still burned in his ears. 

Despite Renee's warning of what would await him, Jean hadn't even begun to understand what it would really mean. Now, after the first day, the taste of change lay stale and bitter on his tongue, making him feel lonelier than ever before. Violence and humiliation were things that had accompanied him over the last few years but they were familiar to him and a little voice inside him wished for both and the cold, violent security of Evermore back where he had found his way. 

Here he stood before a nothingness, a multitude of impressions of people and places he had never seen before and whose lives passed by without them even looking at him or noticing him standing outside and watching them. At some point, years ago, he had had the desire to live his life among them, to be part of something, and now? Now he watched from the outside and understood each time anew that he did not play any role at all. He was invisible, useless and unwanted. In the worst case, a burden to be broken. 

That was nothing new for him. His Master and Riko had drilled it into him over and over again, until he had understood and internalized it. But his non-existence in Evermore was different from his non-existence here. In Evermore he had not seen the world as it was for others. Here a short and terrible visit to the grocery store had been enough to make him understand what he was not allowed to do. What he had missed all these years.  
Jean pushed the thought aside. Two more months and it would be finally over. Then the world would go on spinning without him and everything would be fine. Until then...

Slowly he pulled his smartphone out and stared at the last message from Renee, which he had not yet answered. ~Sleep well~, it said, peppered with smileys, the meaning of which Jean had learned bit by bit from her.  
Quietly he opened the window and held the camera towards the sunrise, taking a picture that didn't do justice to the real rays of light. He hoped that it would be enough to serve as a good morning.  
She answered him almost immediately.  
~How are you?~  
Jean’s answer took a little longer as he was still unaccustomed to the use of this particular phone. ~I feel like I have eaten a whole loaf of cheese.~  
~What…?~  
~Knox made dinner yesterday.~  
~What did he cook?~  
~Poison.~

Jean receiced a ton of smileys for his message. Apparently, it was amusing and entertaining, even if he hadn’t meant it to be. Knox‘s food had been poison for his body and his athlete's diet, especially because of his missed training for the last few months. In the long run this would probably cause problems with the contract Josten had negotiated with the main branch of the Moriyama clan. If he was kicked off a team because he was no longer able to hold his position well, they would get rid of him, he was sure of that. A reminder to all who would step out of line. 

~You're up early,~ Renee pulled him from his deep and dark thoughts. Jean was involuntary glad for that.  
~I wasn't asleep. You are up early, too.~  
~I'm going for a run in a minute. Nice sunrise, by the way. I do envy you for that.~  
Jean frowned. Renee envied him for a sunrise? She certainly had seen more and better sunrises than him.  
~I'd like to go for a run again, too.~  
~Not yet, Jean, you know that. Are your injuries healing properly?~  
Jean rolled his eyes. Of course she had to ask that. She and the nurse had condemned him to cure his injuries until they were completely healed. Any objection on his part, with which he had explained to them that he was able to move and participate in training even with serious injuries, had been refuted. 

~They are healing~, he sent to her with an annoyed smiley, which only provoked a laugh from her.  
~Are the wound dressings working?~  
Jean frankly didn’t know. He hadn’t tried to change them. It had to work, even those on his back. Somehow he would be able to change them without Knox knowing.

~Then let's get out of here. Toss Jeremy out of his bed and take him for a little, the injuries not straining ride.~  
She was teasing him, Jean knew it. There's no way he would ever dare such an insolence. Or even think about leaving the apartment alone. He had never been alone since his parents left him in that hellhole called Evermore. Always in pairs. That which he hated the most, he could least of all ignore, the time with the Foxes had shown him that very clearly. 

Being alone was his personal hell but at the same time he was pathetically grateful for and disgusted by the presence of the Trojan in the other room, in the same way as he was disgusted with himself that he needed this help.  
Renee knew this because after his second escape attempt, he had told her everything that had happened in a moment of self-destructive honesty. Was he trying to scare her off? For sure. He had been so sure he achieved that. Destroy her trust and hope in him, so that she let him go out of pure hate and anger because she was disgusted by him.  
She hadn’t been and Jean had spent the next hours crying in her arms like a little child, curled up as best he could, defenceless against possible attacks that didn't come.

That never came. Not even by Josten, as much as it would have been deserved. Minyard, on the other hand…

~The sun doesn’t do you any good, your suggestions are unrealistic,~ he wrote back and was rewarded with a kissing smiley that made him snort.  
~Shall I call Jeremy für you?~ the monster on the othr side of this country asked diabolically grinning, and Jean hurried up with an answer, anxiously listening to whether his captain's phone was ringing.  
~No! No, please, don‘t!~  
~Only because it's you,~ redemption came almost instantly and Jean growled. With a relieved sigh, he leaned his forehead against the cool tiles oft he wall. Even now the room temperature was actually too warm for him to keep his sweater on. That wouldn't certainly get any better during the day, and he only had a long-sleeved shirt with him that would cover the bandages and plasters. If he hurried, he would be able to change and shower before Knox woke up.  
~Go for a run, girl~ Jean ended their conversation with a smiley face with a sniffing nose and in return he received a middle finger and a heart...and of course her signature victory sign.

Jean rolled his eyes and quietly turned the key in the lock. Just as carefully he opened the door and peered into the quiet bedroom. Knox had turned back to to the room and was now sleeping with his arm hanging out of the bed, his fingers unconsciously twitching. In years of practice, Jean crept past him to his closet and opened the door. He had carefully folded his few things and stacked them on top of each other so he could easily and quickly take them out of the closet when he needed them. Like now. He grabbed for his shirt, the underwear and the trousers, before closing the wardrobe again. Jean turned around and faced Knox…who was widely awake.

Jean flinched so violently that he almost dropped his clothes. 

His captain’s eyes were open and he blinked. Wide awake he sat up and yawned less silently.  
"Am I too late? What time is it? It's still half dark outside...isn’t it?", his captain muttered in a drowsy, confused voice and rubbed his eyes. He stared out of the window before coming back to Jean and putting him in the focus of his attention. 

Jean found himself unable to move an inch, especially since his thoughts now whispered helpfully to him, that he was not wearing the hood or the thin beanie – a gift from Renee - and his hair could be seen in all its glory.

The full, torn, pulled out glory.

Knox's gaze told him exactly that at that very moment when his captain became awake enough to realize what exactly he was seeing.

~~~~~~~~~~~

_To be continued._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always...please don't hesitate to get in contact (here, on my tumblr "opheliagreif",...). I do love constructive criticism and opportunities to get better (first time translating something so long in English and stuff). :)


	4. Beach talk

"Jean...?"

Jean hadn't heard so much concern in a voice since Renee dragged him from the nest, calling him as he lay on the cold hard ground of the Raven’s Court. Hearing it now in a drowsy and confused way hurt him so much that it distracted Jean from the rising panic that was whispering in his ear to leave this room immediately. His captain's presence was not safe, not when he had seen his hair and probably thought of tearing out the rest that had remained. 

Despite his thoughts and fears Jean remained frozen on his spot, his clothes a dead weight on his arm. He couldn’t do little more than to stare into Knox's eyes. It was rude and inappropriate, but he had to know what came next. He had to know what the other boy was going to do to protect himself against it. 

"Oh God..."

With horror Jean saw that Knox folded his blanket back and put his legs on the floor, ready to get up. Jean stared at the boxer-clad thighs which in no way made the situation any better. Knox didn't make any effort to improve it either when he stood up and took a single step towards him. Afraid Jean stumbled back and hit his back against the cupboard, drilling its handle right into the still-healing wound that Riko had inflicted on him with his knife. As much as Jean was used to the pain, it surprised him right now. Unintentionally he groaned and flinched. 

It made Knox stop in his movements. 

"Jean, your…your hair. Your head…You have to go see a doctor." Words came to his overwrought ears which he hadn't expected one second. A doctor? For his hair? Confused, Jean looked at his captain, who stood before him with helplessly open hands and who could not take his eyes off the catastrophe that was his hair.   
"It's healing," Jean pressed out before Knox could get any more false ideas. "It's been taken care of. In the nurse's house. After...after Evermore."   
Clumsily and hastiliy the words that were so important escaped his lips and Jean hoped that it would be enough. 

It was, though it did not diminish the horror on Knox‘s face. "After... Evermore?", his captain echoed slowly and realisation dawned on him. Whoever had briefed Knox about Jean had apparently left out essential details, most importantly why he had been abducted from his old team in the first place. Jean swallowed hard. He couldn't explain it. He could not utter the words that described what Riko had done to him. 

"It doesn't matter," Jean mumbled, hoping that Knox would actually stop bothering him with his questions, looks and worries. He just wanted to shower and change his clothes in peace. 

For a moment it looked as if Knox wanted to discuss his words. For a moment the blonde boy opened his mouth, held it open and frowned. But then the crease on his forehead smoothed out and he closed his lips. He smiled again his friendly smile that Jean would have loved to slap off his face at that moment because it was so undeserved. There was nothing about this situation to smile about.

Absolutely Nothing.

"Okay." A simple word that could mean everything and nothing. No, nothing was okay, Jean thought resentfully.   
"May I use the bathroom?" he asked and Jeremy nodded thoughtfully. 

Relieved that he had gotten away with it unscathed this time, Jean fled into the small room and dedicated himself to the gruelling task of undressing, taking a shower, washing his hair and changing the plasters. What he hated the most of these actually simple tasks he couldn't say.

~~**~~

Out of the corner of his eye Jeremy watched his new roommate sitting at the kitchen counter and staring at his plate. There was still a small rest of the scrambled eggs which Jeremy had prepared for both of them. The pot of coffee that stood next to Jean hadn't been touched yet, even if Jean’s eyes darted to it every now and then. Something in his posture and expression told Jeremy that Jean wouldn't touch it until he offered him some, and that fit seamlessly into a line of impressions that sent cold shivers down his spine. 

Jean had been so afraid of him this morning that he had flinched away from him. With his hair torn out in large places and yesterday's attitude Jeremy inevitably wondered what had happened to trigger the transfer of the so devotedly well-known number three. He was sure that it weren't just internal quarrels and Jeremy was tempted to pick up his cell phone and write Kevin who apparently had only provided him with the barest necessities. 

Like the fact that Jean couldn't be alone. 

That itself was a stark contrast to the boy sitting silently behind him. Did the need for a partner provoked also fear of the very person, like a paradoxical, toxic bond that Jean had had apparently also had with Riko? Jeremy took a deep breath and turned around.  
"Why are you afraid of me, Jean?" he asked clumsily and somewhat a little bit too loudly which earned him a surprised glare of grey eyes. Jean was wearing a beanie, a light and also grey thing that matched his eyes and highlighted his sharply contoured features. It made him outrageously attractive, even with the pale skin, the deep rings under the eyes and the recently healed cuts on his face. 

Jeremy received no answer to his question, only what he had already seen before in the dawn of today‘s morning: emerging panic, based alone on his question. Jeremy didn't know why and it tore at his nerves.  
"Listen Jean, if I scare you with anything, please tell me. I don't want you to be afraid of me. I would like to make this good for you. After... whatever happened in Evermore." Jeremy paused for a moment, let his words sink in. "And whatever that happened there, you can always talk to me if you need someone to listen."

Jean's expression said he could have spoken Chinese just as well, it would have met the same understanding. Jeremy could almost see the questions piling up behind his forehead, the refusal to let those pass the narrow lips as well.   
Patience was not Jeremy's strong trait, nor was silence, but his instinct told him to train both and give Jean all the time he needed for an answer. Seconds passed, turning into minutes. Endless long, agonizing minutes in which they just stared at each other, blinking and remaining silent. If Jean hadn't stared at him persistently, Jeremy would have thought he was being ignored. 

He tried a third time. "Please, Jean, be honest with me."

The other boy lowered his gaze and clasped his hands in his lap.   
"You are the captain," Jean whispered as if that would explain everything. Jeremy tilted his head tot he side.   
"That‘s correct."  
"You and Coach Rhemann own the team."  
Jeremy frowned at that, but he remained silent now that Jean had apparently decided to talk to him.   
"Your way of giving orders is very different from Rikos. I don't know how to follow them if you formulate them like suggestions."

The former Raven's words echoed like thunder through the silent kitchen and Jeremy felt heat rising inside him. Feverishly he tried to remember when he had given orders and came to no consistent answer. Why should he? They were equal and their coach treated them with respect.   
No one was above anyone else. 

"Were Riko and Coach Moriyama giving you orders at Evermore?" he asked softly and Jean nodded.   
"Did they own the team?" Again Jean affirmed that.   
"What was it like?"  
"They said what had to be done and handed out appropriate punishments for misconduct."  
"Like running extra laps?" It was a test balloon, because Jeremy already suspected that the punishments at Evermore were far worse than this. Far far worse.   
"Something like that."  
"Your hair…was that also a punishment?"

Jean nodded and it instantly broke Jeremy's heart. That wasn't punishment. That was fucking torture. Nobody ever had the right to commit such an atrocity. "Jean, this is assault. They had no right to do that to you."  
Jean shook his head. "Yes, he did. Riko owns…owned me. Just as you own me now."

The devoted, bitter self-confidence with which Jean said monstrosities was staggering. Wordlessly and horrified, Jeremy stared into the profile of his new backliner and realized in that moment that he didn't even know the tip of the iceberg that Evermore really was. No one should own another human being, it was simply impossible. It was perverse and in no way was that what USC stood for. Ever. 

Slowly Jeremy moved away from the sideboard and much, much more slowly he came to Jean. He saw from the rising tension that the other boy was just waiting for violence and Jeremy began to understand why. However, he would never ever fulfill the boy's expectations. In slow motion, he got down on his knees, a position that inevitably made him smaller than Jean who was sitting on the high bar stool. He could have a good look into the lowered face from here and put his hand on Jean‘s with caution, whose fingers clawed into his thigh. They twitched, but did not elude his light grip. 

Jeremy cleared his throat. "I don’t own you. You don't belong to our coach or the team. You're part of our team. I swear to you that no one here will hurt you or physically assault you, Jean. You have a right to be unharmed, just like everyone else. You have a right to make your own choices, to have your own desires. No one here will give you orders and punish you if you don't do something the way the coach or I doing it. We discuss, we don't punish."

Jean didn't look at him, but Jeremy knew his words had been heard. It broke him up inside just a little bit more when he saw the broad shoulders tremble, even though he reeled back in shock the next second when he saw that it was amusement that caused the shivers. Jean laughed, but it was not a happy sound that left his lips. He lifted his gaze and Jeremy met ice-cold, hateful eyes that burned into him in all their intensity.

"Rarely heard such bullshit," Jean hissed and pulled his hand away. He stood up abruptly and knocked over the barstool. With derisive mockery he looked down on Jeremy. "Cut your humanistic bullshit. I know you're lying, you don't have to pretend with me."  
Jeremy stared at Jean, unable to react or respond to the baleful words. He wanted to contradict, but didn't know how to go against this conviction, this indoctrination that the Ravens had apparently left in the boy. 

Under Jean's burning gaze, Jeremy stood up and crossed his arms. "Why are you here then, if you believe that?" he asked with an careful calm and Jean hissed contemptuously.  
"Because I have no _choice_."  
Was it really like that? Did he feel forced? Did he not even want to be here? Had he been forced? That would explain a lot, even if much of it eluded Jeremy's understanding. 

Without malice, he pointed behind him. "It’s your choice. You're free to leave if you don't want to be here. There’s the door. I won't stop you, and I don't want you to be in any way unhappy with the decision to play fort he Trojans."

He must have said something absolutely despicable, the way Jean barbed his teeth like a rabid animal and took a step towards him. Involuntarily, Jeremy backed away from him. At this moment he became painfully aware of how much bigger the other boy was and how much more experience he must have had with violence. Jeremy hadnÄt and sometimes the violence, as it was practiced in their sport, was too much for him. He did not want to fight with anyone aside from their plays. He also did not want to be beaten. At the moment his chances of exactly that were apparently not good and with painful fear he became aware that they were completely alone in the house. 

"Jean, please stop. You're scaring me," he pressed out, and more than anything else it made Jean‘s aggression fade away. The broad shoulders lowered and the rigid, hateful look became calmer, though no less hostile. But it was still too much for Jeremy to return to business as usual.

Looking at Jean, he stepped back into the hall and slipped into his sandals. Just as blindly, he reached for the car and apartment keys that were in the bowl his mother had given him as he had moved to L.A..   
"I'll come back...later...I have to…", he said as unsure as he felt, and opened the door. He left the apartment and hastily closed the door behind him, walking then running down the stairs to his car. Only when he started the car and left the campus, he became calmer, less anxious. 

As he made his way through the morning traffic towards Del Rey Lagoon and turned the music up loud, he was slowly able to shake off the last threads of fear that had held him in their vice-like grip. As he parked his car, walked down to the beach, and looked out into the morning sunshine, Jeremy was finally able to look back on the whole encounter without fear. 

He was now able to focus on the questions that were most important right now. The question whether Jean was a danger to his team had top priority. If so, the ex-Raven would fly back to Palmetto before he had had his first training with the Trojans. No one would make a pass at his team and he would certainly not tolerate Raven methods and intimidation attempts towards the Trojans.   
Jeremy grabbed one of the small pebbles and threw it into the floods that were breaking on the shore not far from him. Frustrated, he sat down on the warm sand.

If he honestly admitted it to himself, the whole mess made him angry. Kevin had called him and asked him to help him. He had described the situation briefly and succinctly, apparently leaving out most of the important details, thus plunging Jeremy into problems he couldn’t have foreseen. Problem solving was Jeremy's strength, always had been, but even he had limits. When things escalated like this on the second day of their shared living, he wasn’t sure about their common future. 

Jeremy sight and pulled out his cell phone. He unlocked it and with clenched teeth he called Kevin. It rang four times until the other striker picked up and Jeremy switched to a video call.   
"Hey," he greeted and saw Kevin's face less than ten seconds later.   
"Hey, Jer!"  
Jeremy smiled a little forced. "You guys doing good? "  
"Terrible training morals as usual. You?"  
"No one's been around to train yet.“

This made Kevin frown, as Jeremy knew it would. He liked to provoke it. Kevin was a very simple and focused mind in that respect. Exy was his everything and always came first and God help the person who didn't see it his way. How he had managed to get so far up Kevin's ranking list with his attitude was still a mystery to Jeremy. Probably ever would be.   
"Is that why you're sitting on the beach lazing around instead of keeping fit with drills?"  
Jeremy snorted and raised his eyebrow.   
"Is Jean with you?" Kevin asked after a few seconds of silence and Jeremy shook his head. Finally, he sighed.   
"He's in the dorm and... we had a fight."  
Surprised, Kevin raised his eyebrows and leaned forward, which enlarged his face in an almost comical way. "A _fight_? You and him? How did you _do_ that?"

Jeremy didn’t hesitate and told him everything that had happened. How Jean and he had acted, what they had said. He told him about his fears and the consequences what such a behavior at USC would have for Jean. Kevin took note of it all with a straight face and even when Jeremy had finished, he remained silent with his lips clenched.  
"Jean would never attack you," he finally said. "That's not how he was raised."  
"That's not how it looked like."  
"I do believe you. But he... he wasn't raised like that."  
"So you said."  
"Riko erased that from him," Kevin finally specified, and Jeremy raised his eyebrows in surprise.   
"What?"  
"When he came to Evermore, it wasn't on his own volition. He served to pay off a debt his parents had. They left him with the Ravens when he was 11 and never claimed him back."

In shock, Jeremy stared at his phone, hoping that he had misunderstood what Kevin had said. The settlement of a debt? That would explain Jean's fixation with the term possession and why he saw himself that way. With the Ravens, it had been nothing more than that, the settlement of a debt.  
"That‘s human trafficking. It's illegal," he whispered aghast and Kevin snorted.   
"Nobody cares about that in certain circles, Jer, and you'd do better to not stick your nose in it. Nobody cared about it until now and he's only alive because Renee got him out of it. Otherwise Riko would have killed him, and no one would have cared. Jer, Riko did things to him that you can't even imagine in your worst dreams. Not just Riko, but the coach, too. Right from the start, and it only ended two months ago."

Jeremy forcibly swallowed. He felt more and more helpless with every word that came out of Kevin's mouth. Jean was 11 years old when his parents abandoned him in a histile environment. He had been in the hands of Evermore for nine years and Jeremy couldn't begin to imagine what had happened over the years. The only thing he knew for sure was, that it was absolutely disgusting and inhuman?   
"If you know all this, why isn't he with you and the Foxes? You're his friend... someone I'm sure he trusts."  
Kevin snorted bitterly. "No, I'm not. If anyone has no right to call himself that, then it would be me. That's why I asked for your help. You, your team, your coach, you're good. There's nothing rotten, nothing bad oder violent about you. If anyone can help him heal and show him that there is something else than darkness and violence, it's you."  
"Did he come to us voluntarily?"  
"As willingly as anyone without a free will can be."

Jeremy frowned as he kept pushing the other's words back and forth in his mind until they made _some_ sense. There was one more question, though. "Why didn't you tell me this right away?"  
Kevin shook his head. "I wouldn't have told you at all because I have no right to tell his story. I just don't want you to have the wrong impression of Jean, that's why I told you in the first place. He deserves a chance."  
Slowly and thoughtfully, Jeremy nodded. "Okay. I'll talk to him.“ He sighed. "Let’s see if the Trojan's full charme can‘t break him out of his past."

It was meant as a rather desperate joke, but Kevin was far from laughing. On the contrary. The fine shimmer of tears Jeremy saw in his eyes was disturbing.   
"At 11, he was a friendly boy who desperately lashed out in homesickness because it was the only thing he had left in a foreign land. Riko broke that ... The resistance and the kindness. Jean no longer understands the concept of kindness and affection and thinks that it only serves to break him. Be careful what you do and how you do it."

Jeremy nodded in silence and flinched in surprise when Kevin’s picture on the other end of the line shook and suddenly one of the Minyard twins appeared on the screen. Jeremy was never really sure which one he was dealing with and could only guess from the expression on the other boy‘s face that it might have been Andrew.   
"Give me back my phone, asshole," Kevin growled in the background. To no avail.   
"So you made the idiot cry," said Minyard in his classic, sonorous voice, which sounded latently bored. A trap, Jeremy thought, because the subtle threat that resonated in the simple statement made him shiver involuntarily.   
"He did not!"  
He did, but Jeremy wisely kept that to himself. "Is there anything I can do for you, Minyard?" he preferred to stick to the last name, not brave enough to ask with which one he was dealing.   
"No. Now go back to your french charity project."

Irritated, Jeremy stared at the screen waiting for another explanation, which did not follow. Instead of this he was rewarded with the termination of his phone call. Surprised, Jeremy snorted. Minyard, as he lived and lived. Andrew it was, for sure.   
Slowly he lowered the phone and stared at the sunny and summery sea that lay glittering before him. Los Angeles, L.A., that was pure joy of life. It was sun, it was warmth and friendly, warm-hearted people. L.A. was the pulse that kept him alive with all its aspects. Never in his life had he experienced repression, always he had been showered with love and had learned to give it generously.

It was unimaginable for him that there were people, here, in the USA, who were deprived of this spark of life. It hurt him deep in his soul and what he had learned from his parents from his earliest childhood now had an impact. He wanted to help. He wanted to heal what had been destroyed. 

Jeremy took a deep breath and stood up, remembering that Jean had a problem with being all alone. Determined, he knocked the sand off his shorts. He left the beach behind and walked back to his car, which took him through the streets, old and protesting as usual. The traffic had become heavier, so it took Jeremy longer than he really wanted to before he drove into the university parking lot again and parked the aging monsterof a truck. 

Tightening his shoulders, he got out of the car and walked the last few steps to their apartment building almost as fast as on the way out of there. But that didn't stop him from standing outside her apartment door and doing nothing, suddenly insecure. His heart was beating fast when he finally got himself together and put the key in the lock. Carefully he opened the door, prepared for whatever hate or fury might come. For a new conflict which he had to endure with his long practised stubbornness. 

That the boy, who had shown aggression towards him just hours ago, was now kneeling on the floor of the apartment, his forehead on the kitchen tiles, his hands stretched out flat on the floor in front of him, was not any oft he possibilities he had thought of. 

Jeremy had seen this pose too often in various films to not recognize immediately that it was a sign of absolute submission.   
He knew he had to move. He knew that he had to intervene, but he couldn't move one single bit. His eyes remained attached to the fingers, which were strangely crooked, just as if they had been broken several times. Six fingers looked like this. Jeremy tore himself away from the sight, which turned out to be a mistake.   
Jean had taken off his beanie, which alone made him nauseous. The boy showed him his hair, the damaged scalp, invited him to punish him with it. 

The sight and the implication of it were horrible.

Now it was Jeremy whose eyes burned. Silently he cried the tears he had seen in Kevin's eyes and eventually wiped them away brusquely. His tears were not important now. Jeremy freed himself from his immobility and came to Jean step by step. He sat down on the floor not far from him and once again timidly put his hand on the maltreated fingers, Kevin's words like beacons in his thoughts.   
Jean twitched violently and his breathing accelerated, but he stayed in the awful pose. It was humiliating and Jeremy felt this humiliation for Jean like acid within him, consuming him.

"You may not believe me now. Or maybe not in a week or a month or six months. But I won't punish you. I won't physically attack you or hit you or do other things to you. I won't give you orders, because that's not the way Trojans work. We're an equal team, not a dictatorship. We take care of each other and you are part of this team now, so we take care of you too. If that's what you want. If you want to leave, then I will help you find a place that makes you happier than this one. If you don't, we're back to the mess I made of this apartment. ...and our Exy field, which is actually pretty cool."

The latter was pronounced with a smile and Jeremy let his words sink in. He didn't know what else to say, other than nonsensical babble, which probably would unsettle Jean rather than cheer him up. It took his minutes until the trembling in the kneeling figure subsided. Minutes for his breathing to return to normal. Jeremy felt an exuberant urge to take Jean in his arms, even though he knew instinctively that this would be exactly the wrong approach. Because Riko had made it for him with his torture. 

"I threatened you," it finally escaped, cramped and pressed, underlined with a heavy French accent. Was it the desperation that made Jean's mother language stand out more? Probably.   
"Already forgiven. Even though I would prefer that this is not going to happen anymore."  
"I have disagreed."  
"This wouldn't make you the first or the last. When you meet Laila and Alvarez, you'll feel like a saint on that matter."  
"I have no place to go."

Jeremy sighed silently. "Then we'll make this place the best place you could be at. How does that sound?"  
"Terrible," Jean muttered and Jeremy snorted against his will.   
"Are my cooking skills that bad?" he tried to elevate their conversation to a level that was more humorous, easier, less traumatic, more mundane. The mop of brown hair shook slowly and Jeremy raised an eyebrow.   
"Come on, lift your head so I can see if you're lying," he held his tone lightly and playfully. The success he had with that made him rejoice inside. Hesitantly and slowly Jean came up and now knelt before him. He drew his hands to his thighs and looked Jeremy straight in the face. 

The not-so-nameless horror Jeremy saw there was an unparalleled shadow that made the grey eyes even brighter. Nine years of violence lay behind Jean, nine years in the hands of a psychopath named Riko Moriyama. He was certainly not qualified enough to deal adequately with such a trauma, but Jeremy would do his his best to help Jean learn again what joy was. 

"Hey." He drew his legs toward him and put his arms on his knees. "So. What do you want me to do? Cook us a cheesy cheese dinner every night?"  
The horror that now hit the backliner's face was less serious. It was one of the honest, instinctive reactions of which Jeremy now counted three.   
"No?"  
Jean shook his head.  
"What then?"  
It took Jean a moment before he apparently decided he could be honest. "I like lasagna." Carefully, as if he was in danger of being beaten for it, Jean told him a secret that Jeremy saved almost instantly. Lasagna. Good. He could do that, starting off today. At least with the help of a recipe.  
"Then it will be lasagna."

Jean's distrust was unmistakable. Not today, not tomorrow, not in a week or a month or six months, Jeremy kept his own words in mind. But finally Jean would have no choice but to believe him, because he promised nothing he wouldn't keep.

Ever.

~~~~~~~~~~~~  
 _To be continued._


	5. Wall-E

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe I should also mention that I like happy endings in general. Also in this case. They really really deserve it. But as it is, I also like slow burns. Emphasis on slow. :D 
> 
> Again, thank you so much for your kudos! Please let me know what you think of my approach on Jer and Jean. :) 
> 
> Have a nice weekend!

Jean had received neither the violence nor the humiliation he had expected.

Whatever had broken out of him a moment ago, whatever chains might have broken loose around his iron self-control, when he had laughed at Knox for his words... When knox had retreated from him and said that he was scaring him with his behaviour, Jean had realized his excruciating big mistake. By then Knox leaving the apartment had been just a last drop in Jean‘s wide ocean of panic. 

He didn't know how long he had been standing in front of the knife block, wondering if there was any point in delaying his death. Knox would certainly return with others and punish him adequately for the outrageous resistance he had put up. Jean would survive, but at what costs? And was he willing to pay for it?

As often as Jean had reached for one of the knives, he had put it back again. Again and again he found enough courage in himself to take that one, final step only to lose it an instant later.   
Instead, Jean had chosen to beg for forgiveness, hoping that his punishment would not be as severe as his own failure. He had taken the position that his Master and Riko had wanted for his worst failures, so that they could punish him severly: fingers stretched out, his head and back exposed. But unlike then he had not been able to get undressed while Knox was away. He had by no means been able to get his fingers to work so he could peel his shirt and trousers off his body. 

How many times had the Master whipped his back bloody for his resistance? Too many times for Jean to count over the years. Unlike the fractures that had disfigured his fingers. Six of them had been broken and healed crooked. Six fractures that wouldn't affect the way he played. Three of them self-inflicted. How had Riko put it? He was lucky that he hadn't had to cut them off. Jean still wondered whether that would not have been less painful.

He had presented his new captain what was easy to punish and what had Knox done? He had laid his damn hand on those very fingers that had been a testimony to his disobedience and had told him things that tore at Jean like wild animals would.   
Jean had understood the words, even beyond his rapid heartbeat and his stagnant breathing. But he had not understood their meaning. He had disobeyed his captain, and that meant punishment.

That was the way it had always been.

But not Knox. Knox had made promises. Jean had looked into the reddened eyes and realized that the captain had cried. For him? Jean couldn't believe it.   
Not for one second Knox had lost his smile and not for a second Jean had seen any sign of violence in that freckled face... a skill he had really developed over the last few years. In the end, Jean had been able to see every single sign of a mood change in Riko's face.

He hadn't seen anything in Knox's face and that had lulled him. By mistake. Jean had scolded himself as stupid as soon as his food preference had left his lips. Possession had no desires, that had been drilled into him over and over again. And here, on the second day, he blew that very education into orbit, just because someone seemed friendly. Because someone seemed to cry over him and thus made him feel guilty. 

Jean had called himself stupid even then, when that very lasagna stood before him on the food counter, steaming and slightly burnt. He had looked at the dish with a kind of morbid fascination and had silently wondered whether this was really happening. He didn't deserve any of it. He had not yet played a single ball in practice to be truly rewarded. On the contrary. Until now he had only been a liability.   
He had looked questioningly at Knox, whose grin shone towards him with an intensity that made Jean press his jaws together.

"You said lasagna," had been Knox's reason for cooking, and just like that he had put a double portion on Jean‘s plate. Even the nurse hadn't given him that much when he had been allowed to eat the first solid food after a week of soup and stew. 

Jean had spent their mealtime speculating about his captain's motives and intentions and had silently retreated into his own world, now that no direct questions had been addressed to him. Of course, he saw them in the blue eyes when he dared to look, but they never left Knox's lips. 

At the moment his captain was sorting out the chaos and washing away dirty dishes. After a few seconds Jean understood that he would not be ordered to do this job. A little helpless, he stood at the counter and finally summoned all his remaning courage.  
"Shall I help?" he asked into the silence and Knox turned to him in surprise.  
"If you'd like I’d be happy to. But there’s no obligation."   
Jean wasn't sure if he really wanted to, but he did what he'd learned from the nurse. Drying wasn't difficult to to, but he was still slow, partly because of the bruised wrists, which made it difficult for him to hold objects. 

Knox, like the sister, did not complain about this, but adjusted his tempo to suit him. 

"Your fingers..." he began, and Jean froze. He had seen the questions in the blue eyes. He should not be surprised that they finally found their way to Knox lips. But it was not yet a question and it would be wise not to say anything on his own.  
"...they were broken, weren't they?"  
Jean nodded in silence and reached for the next fork, which he carefully cleaned of its moisture and placed in a metal basket.   
"Was that an accident?"   
Silently denying this, he grabbed one of the spoons and looked at his upside-down, blurred reflection before putting the drying cloth around the metal. 

"Was it Riko?"

"Also." With little surprise, Jean discovered his voice was raw. Of course it was, after all, the subject was still bothering him. The memories of it did, haunting him in his dreams and when he was awake. 

Knox was silent at first, then he sighed.   
"I'm truly sorry about this, Jean." Again it was this particular intonation that caused a tingling, unidentifiable uneasiness in Jean. Why should Knox be sorry? After all, it had been a normal game and Jean had allowed the Trojan‘s captain to break through his defensive line and score a goal against the Ravens. His own sloppy playing was to blame. At least that first broken finger.  
"Don't be," Jean replied succinctly, reaching for one of the plates. 

Knox was silent for a whole cooking pot before he took a breath to say something. Jean wondered with growing anxiety what it would be this time.   
"Our team doctor will want to have a look at this before she releases you for training. She'll probably give you a full check-up, but don't worry. Even though she's a little tough sometimes, she's nice and a sweetheart. But don’t tell her that."

Jean had known he was due for an examination. He would have to undress in front of her. She would see and examine every single scar. She would ask questions. From some of the scars she would be able to deduce less obvious injuries, at least the Foxes' sister had done so and got him flyers to the appropriate help facilities for survivors, which he had all disposed of before he left.

"It's okay," he replied, even if it wasn't, and received an encouraging smile for it.   
"But that's for next week," Knox introduced his distraction and Jean raised his eyebrow. "What would you like to do tonight?"

To sleep, even if that would be impossible in Knox‘s presence. Reading the book Renee had given him. Write messages to her. Staring into the dark sky and following the path of the stars and the moon. Enjoying the soft pillow and the comfortable blanket.  
Jean shrugged his shoulders. 

"We could watch a movie together?"  
The last time he had seen a movie with others, Riko had decided to have the other players fix him to the floor, put a cloth over his mouth and nose and pour water on it to see if waterboarding was really as traumatizing as it was shown in the movie. Jean swallowed with difficulty. He suspected that Knox wouldn't do it, or at least Jean hoped he wouldn‘t, but he wasn't sure. Quite contrary to his fear, which was very sure that something would happen and increased his heartbeat accordingly.

Faster than he could control himself, he had pressed out a "No!" and had taken a step back. Away from the captain's reach. Another step away from the water, which suddenly got a completely different, more and more threatening meaning.   
But unlike Riko, Knox didn’t follow him. When he noticed what his question had triggered, he took a step back himself, away from the sink and raised his hand slowly with a frown, holding them in such a way that Jean could get the impression that they would not hurt him.   
"Okay, Jean. Okay," Knox said so calmly that Jean inevitably knew that everything what was going on inside him was right now revealed by his facial expression. "If you don't want to, we won't watch a movie. It's no problem at all, nobody's forcing you to."

It took a while until Jean actually believed him and could loosen his stiff fists so far that he didn't almost tear the dry cloth. He even managed to swallow, even though the lump in his throat was enormous.   
"Is there anything you'd rather be doing?" Knox continued to ask with this eerie calm that reassured Jean against his will. He didn't want to be lulled again, but the captain of the Trojans seemed to be able to do just that effortlessly. Jean wondered if it was perhaps a similarity with Renee that he hadn't recognized that was controlling his subconscious and making him braver than it was actually good for him.   
"Read," he tried his luck and was rewarded with a nod.   
"What are you reading at the moment?"  
"A book."

Jean hadn't really meant it as a joke, he hadn't even wanted to give that answer to Knox. It had come naturally to him, but that wasn't even the worst part of it. By far the worst part was his emphasis. Still slightly insecure and shaky, but at the same time ironic, latently sarcastic and teasing, as if he had any right to speak to his captain like that. 

Who found the whole thing highly amusing. 

While Jean was still cursing himself for not being able to keep his mouth shut, Knox giggled and a blush rose to his face, his lips curling into a broad grin that Jean could not understand. 

He had only said two words, why would they cause such a reaction? Confused, Jean stood beside him and his amazement at Knox's reaction gradually eclipsed his fear, as if it had only been a single, bad moment, a fleeting thought. 

"Okay okay, I deserved it," Knox said, when he had had enough air to speak again and had come out of his laughter.  
"What’s the book about?" Knox asked and Jean shrugged his shoulders.  
"I don't know."  
"I see. Not started yet?"  
Jean nodded and took another step back towards the sink, which had lost its immediate threat and was now back to what it had been before: a mixture of foam and water, there to clean up the mess in the small kitchen.

He grabbed the second plate and dried it with full concentration while Knox rinsed the rest and finally let the water flow out of the sink without dipping his head into it.   
"If you want to read, I'd puzzle a little bit and run something on my laptop in the background. Would that be okay?", he asked cautiously and Jean nodded slightly. He knew it didn't make any difference, but the idea that the TV was on and he was forced to watch a movie was as different as day and night from Knox running a movie on his laptop while he finished piecing up Day. Not even a fraction of his previous anxiety was stirred by this proposal. 

"Are there a lot of merchandising items like this?" he asked, out of a curious impulse that he could not quite suppress. In Evermore he had had no contact with such things, and in the nurse's house, too, there had been other concerns by far.

The glowing eyes that now turned towards him told him that he had better not have asked, because they resembled the twins' crazy relative so much at first, that Jean rightly feared Knox would turn into an equally bouncing rubber ball wrapped in human skin. Hemmick, that was his name. Nicky Hemmick. Jean shuddered. One evening the nurse and Renee had left him alone with Andrew’s cousin and when the human-skin rubber ball had finally left, Jean had locked himself in the nurse's bathroom for the rest of the evening and all night, pressing his hands on his ears to get some rest.

But apparently Knox was not like Hemmick, so he was spared another violation of his hearing and brain.   
"There are, of course, scarves, t-shirts, sweaters, jackets, buttons, caps, hats, backpacks, posters, displays, sticker albums, game apps, tabletop exyfields, cups, dishes, puzzles, blankets, candles, lamps..."  
When he realised that Knox would not stop listing everything, Jean raised his hands appeasingly, hoping that it was enough to make him stop. He was lucky. Knox fell silent and took a breath.  
"Shall I show you the shops?"  
Scared, Jean's eyes widened. "No." No. Definitely not.   
"Can I get you something?“  
Jean thought about the Kevin Day puzzle and shuddered. "No.“   
"You can also have customized merchandise."  
If Jean hadn't been chained to Knox by an invisible leash, he would have left the apartment by now. "No."  
"When's your birthday?"   
"No," Jean replied reflexively, only realising a moment later what he had said.  
"That's a funny date."

Jean didn't have to look to know that Knox was smiling. He could hear it in his voice. He could hear that the other boy wasn't angry with him, and maybe that's why a kind of calm came over him. It wasn't enough for a smile, certainly not, but he didn't feel uncomfortable at that moment. 

~~**~~

Considering Jean's downright frightened reaction to his suggestion to watch a movie, Jeremy had thought carefully about which movie he could run alongside while doing the puzzle. Something light that wasn't too intrusive might work. Something with humor and soothing, if not funny sounds.   
With a frown, Jeremy searched his online library and finally got stuck on Wall-E.

Silently, he pressed play and turned the laptop so that Jean could take a look at the screen any time he wanted to. Meanwhile, Jeremy continued to complete Kevin. Frustrated, he stared at the bright orange parts of the uniform that all looked the same and which he only got into place by trying to get them right. With horror he thought of the monochrome puzzle in red that Alvarez had given him with a diabolical grin and which he still hadn't touched. 

Concentrating on the piece in front of him inevitably made his thoughts turn back to the boy sitting on the bed behind him, the book on his knees. Out of the corner of his eye, Jeremy's gaze wandered to Jean from time to time and noticed that Jean too was not completely focused on his pages, but rather dared to take quicks looks at the screen every now and then. 

All the more Jeremy made him wonder what Jean really had been afraid of. He couldn't think of a logical explanation, but it didn't seem to be the moving pictures as such. So was it him whose presence Jean avoided or feared? Would it be any wonder if it was his former captain, of all people, who had done things to Jean that were far beyond Jeremy's imagination? Things he shouldn't be poking his nose into, if Kevin had his way.

But Kevin was not here and Jeremy had always been at staying out of other people’s problems. By signing the contract Jean was part of his team, so he was also responsible for the ex-Raven. He would not allow him to continue to suffer from the conditions in Evermore and certainly not tolerate that someone feared him or called him his owner just because he was the captain of an Exy-Team. And he would eat all of his equipment if Coach Rheman didn't feel the same way.   
Again Kevin's words came to his mind. Jean had come to Evermore as a friendly boy who had been torn apart piece by piece by Riko and his uncle? 

Jean's behavior did not speak of friendliness, certainly not, but of a great deal of fear and - which surprised Jeremy and pleased him - of unintentional humor. At least the latter was a good base for Jeremy to work with.

He ventured another look out of the corner of his eye in the direction of Jean and had to hide a smile when he saw that the other boy was now completely ignoring his book in favour of the movie and spellbound followed the scenes. On his face there was only the same, almost dismissive expressionlessness, but his eyes betrayed the backliner. Attentively and his eyes slightly larger than usual, he watched the little robot move with his beloved in a world without humans. 

There were moments when Jean frowned critically, just as he tilted his head twice when he seemed to be missing something. Once, Jean even raised his eyebrows in complete surprise before reflecting on what he was doing there.   
It was only when Wall-E and Eve met the humans that he averted his gaze and returned to his book.   
Jeremy saved this in his mental puzzle called Jean Moreau and returned to his puzzle, which had come a long way by the end of the film. He switched to one of his relaxing playlists and continued a bit further. It wasn't until he had put all the orange jersey pieces together that he finally stopped and decided that it was time to finally go to bed. 

As a warning to Jean, he sighed and then turned around slowly enough not to scare the other boy. A useless gesture, Jeremy realized when he saw that Jean had fallen asleep over his book, his head leaning against the wall, his hands open and relaxed. His shirt had slipped up on his right wrist just enough for Jeremy to see a white plaster peeking out of it, still under his sleeve. 

But that was not what caught Jeremy’s eye. It was the scarred, reddened ring around his wrist that prevented Jeremy from looking away. There were deep scars and repeatedly destroyed skin, which had had no chance to heal properly, that had caught Jeremy‘s attention and now made him swallow dry. 

Jeremy had once seen in a movie that shackles left such marks and even if he didn't believe everything he saw on TV, he just felt like he was seeing the living example of such wounds. How could he overlook this and not inform the police so that they searched Evermore and arrested those who were responsible für this?

Jeremy felt rage inside him that manifested itself like a blazing fire in his stomach. Anger at Evermore, at Riko and the Ravens' coach. He was angry at everyone who had looked away, and therefore, angry at Kevin. Kevin had been in Evermore for years, playing and living with Jean. The insinuations he made were that he knew more. So why had he only reacted now? Why only now, if Jean, as he said himself, had not survived, if Renee Walker had not got him out of there? 

Jeremy clenched his hands. He would talk to Jean as soon as possibly. Those who had done this to him wouldn't escape punishement.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
To be continued.


	6. A known enemy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little explanation why I chose the title.... I have a lot of problems with finding a title (you could say it takes me as long to find a title as it does to write a whole story) and as I am not a native speaker, I usually try to avoid English titles. But it didn't work out here, which is partly due to the fact that I'm a little bit in love with "Miracle of Sound" and - you wouldn't believe it - with the song "Force of Nature". Of course this was not the only reason for my choice, but I would like to refer to the lyrics ;) STRONGLY. 
> 
> And now, on to the new part! Thank you all very much für your Kudos. :3

Every single Exy court Jean had ever been to smelled the same.

It was the unique blend of sweat, linoleum odours, disinfectants and talcum, infused with old wood and chlorine, that made every Exy court smell the same, even now that he had all his senses to take a closer look at his new training area.  
He remembered it faintly, but he believed that the last time he had entered this court, he had only stood on two legs because the punishment for failure would have been even worse than playing the game against the Trojans with his already existing wounds.

But now Jean felt only the dull pain of his past wounds, which had been healing for weeks, and that made him receptive to a detailed look at what was waiting for him.  
The red and gold of the Trojans did not surprise him in the least, nor did the flags and banners that welcomed him. The entrance hall was plastered with them and painted in a correspondingly obtrusive manner. Bright, vibrant colours irritated his already overworked eyes, so it was certainly no help that he was now walking towards the trophy wall of the Trojans.

Every single player was listed here, current and long gone, already graduated. The current players had a wall with their photos, a hodgepodge of crazy pictures that had nothing to do with the seriousness and dignity of their sport. Below them were red plaques with the names of the respective players in gold lettering. Right next to them hung the plaques of former players over the years.  
There was no such tradition in Evermore. What counted was the current team and its success. The former players kept their attitude in their essences, their bodies and souls, if they had one. 

Which Jean doubted in all cases. The dark, thick walls had robbed everyone of their soul, including him.

Jean moved away from the plaques and towards the trophies of the Day Spirit Award for sportsmanship inside and outside the games. The Trojans had won this useless prize eight times in a row. Jean silently snorted. Exy was about destroying and winning, not about treating your opponent with respect and friendship. The complete insane mistake of going down to the number of Foxes when there were only nine of them on the field was the stupidest thing Jean had seen in a long time.

Although...not quite. Josten's decision to sacrifice himself for Minyard and come to Evermore had been far more stupid. It had brought him weeks of pain, humiliation and physical and mental torture, which Riko had enjoyed to the fullest, especially considering that he had had Minyard tortured at the same time.  
Jean was still disgusted by what Riko had gleefully rubbed in Jean's face and how maliciously he had shown him videos of Minyard, taken during his therapy, which had been many things but not that. Riko had tried with all his might to break Josten. He had used Jean to wield the knife, to hurt and punish Josten.

Jean had obeyed his then captain just as he had done his best to patch up the unruly boy again and again, to convince him every time that he should not signthe contract and finally pushed him out of the nest. He had succeeded in doing so and at the same time hated Josten for coming and going voluntarily. And how had Josten thanked him for his support? By selling him to the main branch of the family without asking him, just like the son of the worst criminal murderer he was.

That Josten even thought he had saved his life in this way was almost amusing, if Jean was still able to laugh about something concerning Exy. One more month and three weeks, then this farce was over.

Jean looked from the red walls to the entrance to the court and followed his captain, who held the door open for him and smiled at him. The very smile that had been more forced since this morning. Less friendly. Knox was generally more silent than yesterday. It gave Jean some kind of satisfaction, knowing that the smiling façade was just that: a façade to lull him to safety. Jean might have bet that he had crossed boundaries with his denial yesterday. He should have simply agreed to watching a movie. After all, he had also liked this animation film about the robot. At least until the humans came into play.

Confirming that he had finally been right, Jean let go of the subject and prepared himself for what was to come.  
First of all there was the Trojan Court he was now entering, brightly lit by neon lights and windows that let in daylight. Jean had never noticed this before and accordingly he looked up in wonder at the high ceiling, which made this court so much different from Evermore. From there he looked up at the worn, high plexiglass walls that defined the playing field. The running tracks that surrounded it left a tingling sensation in Jean.

With the Ravens, running had usually been the part of their practice that had been the least painful one for him, so he had run lap after lap, had run to get at least that vague feeling of freedom. Something he also shared with Josten, who himself had run away from him with still bleeding injuries, grim, stubborn and for the most part desperate.

Knox unlocked one of the glass doors and Jean followed him onto the court. The linoleum swallowed his steps as he moved to the centre of the field that was also the centre of his being. Jean knew that if they took away the sport and the skills he had acquired, nothing would remain because he never had the chance to develope something that wasn't Exy.

Jean closed his eyes and let the feeling of this place sink in. It wasn't Evermore, so it felt strangely wrong, almost like a splinter under his skin, but in that moment it was enough that it was a court. Just now it was enough for him to finally feel something familiar around him after weeks of the unknown. This was something Jean knew and it gave him a calm that he needed so badly since he had come here.

The doors opened once again and Jean opened his exes as well, not wanting to be defenselss with somebody unknown. He saw a man approaching who had been smaller in his memory. Much smaller. Even the smile he was now seeing on that older face he had never seen before.

Jean knew the man's face, he knew who he was, but that prepared him in no way for the fear that suddenly held his heart in a cold, unyielding grip.  
Frankly speaking, Jean had remembered the Trojan coach differently. Less frightening, huge and broad-shouldered with hands that could probably kill a bear. He himself might be tall, but Rhemann was half a head taller than him, brawny and really intimidating in his own unique way. He would be able to break his bones effortlessly without any help.

"Hello Jean, I'm thrilled to have you here. The best backliner of the NCAA," Rhemann said with his deep voice. Jean swallowed and stared at the hand that was stretched out between them. Apparently that went differently here as well. The Master would never have tolerated such a gesture of disrespect, neither from him nor from other Ravens. The Master would never have and had never greeted or even praised him in such a way. He was not the best backliner. He was just good enough to stay alive to serve as a source of income for the Moriyamas.

Carefully and ready for anything, Jean reached out with his hand and placed it in coach's, who shook it surprisingly gently, giving him a warm smile so different from that of his late captain or Master. No one in Evermore had smiled out of kindness.  
"Did you arrive safely? Has blondie here already provided you with the essentials and given you your first tour?"  
Jean took a quick look at Knox, who had been standing beside him in silence ever since they had entered the court. Jean nodded and registered with relief that the man let go of his hand without breaking it.

"Very well. We'll get the rest done and next week we are going to do your college application and all the glorious administration stuff so we can get you enrolled properly.  
Jean tilted his head. "Yes, thank you, Sir."  
"I can imagine that all this must be new and unfamiliar to you, especially compared to Evermore, but it'll be okay. If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask Knox or me about it. We are glad to help."

Jean nodded. What else could he do? The words were so incomprehensible that he didn't know what to do with them. The last person he would ask for advice would ever be his coach. That would be an unforgivable sacrilege, an unspeakable misshap.

"Speaking of which... do you have any yet?"  
Confused, Jean looked up and Rhemann frowned.  
"Questions, I mean."  
"No, Sir."  
"Okay. But I do. Size?"  
Jean blinked without understanding.  
"For your uniform."  
Again Jean bowed his head in a sign of obvious submission. It would be no wonder if he was being punished right here for his stupidity in not being able to follow his coach.  
"Size L, Sir."

"I thought so. Good. I will prepare the order. I'm afraid, number 3 is already taken. If you dare, you can try and steal it from Alvarez. In that case, it was a pleasure to have met you and I would ask you to submit a prominent sepulchral inscription in advance. If, understandably, you are not brave enough, you will be given number 7. That all right with you?"

Jean looked somewhat helplessly from Knox to their Coach, whose wild gestures and desperate expressions were probably intended to suggest to him that the last option would be the better one. He frowned and wondered why Rhemann threatened him so openly with death, but still gave him the choice to obey. Who was he to refuse to accept it? Not that this option scared Jean particularly.  
Especially since he had no sympathy for the number three, on the contrary. He had never asked to be number three and to have that burnt to the bottom of his soul. If he had had the choice, he would have had the mark of his possession burned from his face, just like Josten.

Again, Wesninski's son had been much stronger than him.

"Number 7 is all right," Jean replied when he saw that an answer was expected from him.  
"Good, clever boy. Would have made the same choice," his coach nodded benevolently and examined him closely. He was dissected attentively and without anger, especially his hair hidden by the cap and his cheeks, still furiously bearing red marks of Riko's last violent excess. Rhemann's gaze clearly told him that he knew more and that made Jean nervous, although he should not be surprised. Wymack had certainly spoken to him and told him what to expect.

"David told me to go easy on you," Rhemann confirmed his suspicions not a second later. "What about your injuries? Do you think that you are physically able to play the coming season?"  
"I am able to make my contribution," Jean replied accordingly and Rhemann stroked his black, thick beard.  
"For the main practice, I will wait for Fiona's go. She's the team doctor and decides on the fitness of my players. But if you want to do a few easy rounds and likely easy drills go ahead, I won't stop you." Coach Rhemann raised his index finger as a warning. "Emphasis on light, Moreau."

The black eyes lay heavily on him and Jean swallowed involuntarily. He could not do anything with the admonition. In all its severity it frightened him. He did not know what Rhemann meant by easy. Never in his life he had had an easy Exy-training. Was it a metaphor? If so, what for? Irony, maybe? Cynicism?  
"Knox, you are going to take care of that", Rhemann rumbled and his captain saluted in such an irreverent and nonchalant way that Jean shuddered.  
"Aye aye Coach. Light training."

No matter how easy it was, there was one big problem with practice. Jean swallowed as he panicked while searching of a phrase that would spare him from punishment. He failed with every variation, so he cleared his throat and tightened up.  
"May I say something?" he asked quietly and Rhemann grunted in surprise.  
"You don't have to ask, boy. Just tell me."  
Nervously, Jean kneaded his aching fingers and looked at the equally worn hall floor. Again it took him an almost impolite period of time before he found the courage to speak.  
"I have no sports clothes. Renee Walker gave me ... she took nothing with her when she came to Evermore. I have nothing," he admitted and was confronted with a wall of silence, which certainly didn't mean anything good. How could he train and do his job with nothing? Correct. Not at all. He could probably be glad that he wasn't already lying on the floor with a bleeding nose and a stick beating his back into a bloody lump.

A surprised sound finally left the lips of his new coach. "Haven't you gone shopping yet?"

Jean looked up in horror as he realised his terrible mistake. What was he thinking of, being a traitor to his captain like that? How could he think of betraying Knox, when he was the one who was going to get the answer for his mistake? Jean knew this only too well, as he and Josten had received more than enough punishment for each other's misconduct over the Christmas holidays. So Jean could think of nothing better than to betray Knox in front of the coach? He swallowed and crossed his arms in front of his stomach, chewing his lower lip between his teeth.

"No, we bought the basic stock first. We have not bought anything else yet. If we are doing some drills, I'd grab Jean today and take him shopping."  
And just like that, the coach accepted Knox's reasoning and growled. He didn't raise his voice, he didn't hit his captain or him, he didn't do anything except dismiss this slovenliness with a meaningless gesture. Jean stared stunned at the two of them, for whom this seemed perfectly normal.  
"Good. Is there anything else I should know? Moreau?"

Jean thought feverishly about whether there was anything else he should say or ask and finally nodded.  
"Would you like me to follow a special meal plan, Sir?" he finally asked. The amused snort surprised him.  
"Just don't let Knox tell you that his sweet stuff is full of vitamins and should therefore be an important part of your sports diet. Otherwise, eat what's good for you and what you like."

Jean nodded obediently, even though once again he could not make sense of the words. He had never made any decisions about what he ate in the last few years and now he was given complete control over it? How should he decide what was good for him? Restlessness came over him alone at the thought of it and made its way into his already completely chaotic thinking. None of this fitted to what he was used to, everything was new, was the complete opposite of all that had passed and he did not know how to deal with it.

If he thought he had finally found a direction in this court, he was wrong. None of his other standards applied here, and even the people surrounding him were so much different from Edgar Allan or even the Foxes. In both cases the violence had been palpable, but here their absence was like a constant phantom pain that drove him mad. Jean hoped that it would subside, especially when the courses and training started again and he had distractions.

"If there's nothing more, I'll let you two off into the sun. And Knox...easy practice!"

With that the coach apparently threw them out of the court, at least that was how Jean interpreted his gestures and facial expressions. He dared to take a look at his captain to orientate himself. The fact that he saw a broad grin on his freckled face did not really surprise him.  
"See you tomorrow, Coach," Knox whistled and was rewarded with a groan. But they didn't get any more attention than that as Rhemann headed for the equipment room.

Reluctantly Jean left the place and followed Knox sliently to his old car. Mindful of the spring, he carefully took his place in the passenger seat as soon as the door was opened. Knox gave him one of his now tense smiles and Jean swallowed.

"I'm sorry," he said softly on his own, almost too softly not to be drowned out by the music booming from the radio, which the other boy almost hastily turned off. He lowered his eyes to his crossed hands, fearing what he would see on the other boy's face.  
Silence greeted him.  
"What are you sorry for, Jean?" Knox finally asked quietly. Too quiet for Jean's taste. Like a ticking time-bomb that was just about to explode.  
"That I mentioned to Coach Rhemann that I didn't have the proper training gear."

Knox glanced surprised at him. Jean could tell that by the movement in the corner of his eye. "Oh Gosh... that. No prob! After all, training wasn't even an issue yet, so why should we have bought sports equipment on the first day? I'm glad I could at least talk you into a blanket."  
"And a pillow," Jean added muttering. Once again Knox calmed his fears more than he confirmed them, which was frightening enough in itself.

A upcoming silence between them made Jean more than nervous. Silence meant nothing good with Knox, he suspected. Silence meant that there was something else and that he wouldn't like it because it was new and unfamiliar and he didn't know how to react to it.  
Silence meant that he had apparently done something wrong. He dared to look in the direction of his captain. Knox put his hands in his lap and stared at them as if he had to prepare himself for the conversation he was going to have with him.

Unwillingly, Jean pressed himself against the passenger door. His left arm twitched in anticipation of a blow, in anticipation of having to protect his head, but nothing happened.  
With every second they sat here, Jean became more and more nervous. This was not the Knox he had met before. This Knox would have said something long ago, kept him from getting used to his new surroundings with trivialities.

It was only when the air was tense to the point of rupture and Jean wanting to turn off the air conditioning that was blowing cold air at them that his captain cleared his throat and raised his head, turning it so that the oh so piercing blue eyes could record every movement in his beaten face.

Jean felt naked under this gaze.

"I'd like to talk to you about something," Knox began and Jean wondered if it made sense to just flee out of the car and run away. Away from this boy, this car park, away from this town. For a few seconds he gave in to the hopeless idea that he was fleeing into the vastness of this country he had seen so often from the plane. Into the wilderness, far away from all people and no one ever finding him.  
How many times had this thought taken him out of Evermore, while he was lying bleeding and aching on the cold concrete or hall floor after Riko had finished with him? Like a marvellous utopia, Jean had let himself be carried away by the thought and thus freed himself from his body and his suffering in order to preserve his sanity.

But as in Evermore, he did not dare, broken for years and imprinted on his master like a dog, full of fear but still obedient.

Jean knew that an answer was required from him, so he nodded automatically without really wanting to. Knox swallowed audibly.

"Last night, you dozed off while reading and your sleeve moved. I saw the scars around your right wrist."  
Jean swallowed convulsevily He was aware that he had slept briefly, but that Knox had enough time to watch him gave him goosebumps. The fact that he had also seen the scars Jean had been trying to hide since his arrival, so as not to give his new captain any ideas, was just an even bigger disaster.

Like a deer in the spotlight, Jean stared at Knox, unable to move or react.

"Jean, if you want to go to the police and press charges, I fully support you there. Not just me, but Coach, too."

If he had thought that the time before Knox's words jad already been bad, Jean had not expected the words themselves and now he could not help but notice that the time after his proposal was much worse than anything he could have imagined.  
First there was disbelief. He hoped he had misheard. He believed in a bad joke. He believed he was dreaming.

None of this was true.

Then there was horror at the thought of confessing what happened under the protective hand of the Yakuza to a policeman and causing an unprecedented bloodbath. And the thought that he should confide in anyone at all. All that had happened? He didn't remember much of it properly, because his brain had only tried to survive.

The horror was followed by the fear that Knox would do it without his consent, leaving him no choice but to take his own life before Moriyama's killers came to him and tortured him to death.

Unable to say anything, Jean stared Knox into his eyes and shook his head when he found the strength to do so. It was almost too much already and over the murmur in his ears Jean felt that it wasn't enough.

"Kevin told me that these are things I'd better not stick my nose into, but this is assault. They can't get away with it."

Jean clenched his hands into fists and unclenched them again with iron self-control. Never in his life did he think he would utter those words and while he was fighting with them, they were shards in his mouth, meant to bleed the last remnants of his pride.  
It took Jean three attempts before he squeezed out more than just a croak. "Day is right," he then pressed out. "It's not important."

This was met with little approval. "They've hurt you, Jean. Of course it matters," Knox said the impossible, the unthinkable. He was possession, it didn't matter. Knox knew he was property, why did he say such a thing?  
Why did he say something that only Renee had said to him before? Jean, you're important to me. Over and over again she had told him that, until he believed her. Why did the other boy say something similar to that?  
"Why?" he whispered in a correspondingly confused way and his captain's smile became so soft that Jean had to look away because it hurt him too much.  
"You remember? You being part of our team. You belong to us and the Trojans stand up for each other."

It sounded almost ridiculous, like a motivational speech, like empty words, underpinned by even less important intentions. But something in it made Jean pause, even if he felt like laughing again. Perhaps it was precisely this degree of seriousness that made a change for Jean.  
Where he had expected violence, Knox had shown him once again that he had misjudged his captain thoroughly.  
There had to be a Jeremy Knox manual. A formula, an equation, by which he acted and which determined his life. If it wasn't violence, what was it? Charity? Could he replace violence with charity and kindness? Was that his equation?

Jean realised that those emotions would rage in him worse than any blow could do.

And as with blows, he armed himself against this new form of violence.

Little by little he trained his facial expression to expressionlessness, his body to defend itself. He kept silent long enough to change the atmosphere in the car from desperate to unpleasant. Then he snorted and pierced Knox literally with his eyes.  
"My injuries are nobody's business," he tried with unkindness, which in its abrupt form made his Captain flinch heavily. "Not you, not the Trojans, not the police."

Knox opened his mouth to contradict, but before Jean could come up with a new strategy, or before his heart could burst with fear of punishment for his impertinent tone of voice, the other boy closed his lips and frowned thoughtfully.  
"Are you sure you don't want this," Knox asked slowly and carefully, and Jean looked pointedly out of the window. Nevertheless, it was a question he had been asked directly and to which he had been drilled to answer.  
"No, I don't want that."

Inevitably, he held his breath. Never before had others been interested in what he wanted. No one had ever listened to what he said. No one except Renee. And now... now Knox accepted what he said. Listened to it. Paid attention.  
"Okay, Jean. I respect that." The other boy nodded and finally got the car going. Jean glanced. Knox respected his words? Why? Thoughtfully he maltreated his lower lip between his teeth.

"Would you rather go to the mall or a little shop to buy your sports equipment," Knox distracted himself and Jean was inevitably grateful that he was confronted with a more tangible problem at that moment.

A small shop sounded much better than a mall. Renee had told him about one in Los Angeles, a big, crowded shopping area. It was a horror for Jean, but he couldn't say no to it. He had to choose the mall so Knox wouldn't think he was weak, he with his scars of humiliation.

"Mall," Jean finally said curtly. He would get through this, he had no other choice. Weakness would endanger others. Renee for example. Or the nurse.

Abby. That was her name.

~~~~~~~~~  
To be continued.


	7. Captain Sunshine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy and Jean go shopping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all of your comments, kudos, bookmarks, subscriptions... :3 
> 
> Let me tell you: this chapter was (and still is) a pain in the ass. I'm not very contempt with the translation but I've no frigging idea how to change that (rewriting the whole part aside - I don't want to do that x_X...). So: sorry for spelling mistakes or sentences that sound weird. Feel free to tell me what I did wrong! ;)

Jean had not spoken to Jeremy since he had mentioned the scars. The ex-Raven sat silently next to him, this time not anxiously or cautiously, but rejecting, as if Jeremy's question had triggered something dark that had not been there before. Here he was, the starting backliner of the Ravens, whom no one came too close to and with whom no one started a conversation at banquets or after games. He was aloof and cold, dismissive and arrogant.

Jeremy could not say what was less irritating. The hurt and frightened boy who had arrived at LAX and flinched away from him as if Jeremy wanted to hit him or the one who was walking just behind him, a towering and terrifying presence in his neck. No cautious attempt to persuade the other boy to talk to him had been successful. Only direct questions inflicted direct, monosyllabic answers. So Jeremy just rambled on and on and explained the details of every store in the mall to Jean, including its purpose, its merchandise and its price range... hoping that Jean would be listening and hadn't probably already switched off his hearing sense completely.

Finally they stopped in front of the sports store and Jeremy turned around with a faint smile.

He looked up and realized that he had apparently at least partially misjudged Jean‘s silence. His face expressed anything but rejection. The gray eyes nervously turned to every corner, unsteady as they looked at their surroundings and tried to absorb every single possible danger. He saw astonishment on the injured face and could identify with it. More than that. When he had first visited this mall, he had been equally overwhelmed by its sheer size and pleasant atmosphere.

"Pretty cool, isn't it?" Jeremy ventured a new attempt to start a conversation with Jean, this time successfully. The grey eyes focuses slowly on him. "It's not the biggest mall here in L.A., but it's one of the most beautiful, bright ones. You are not getting run over here, so it's quite nice."  
It took some time for his words to sink in and much longer for Jean to decide to answer him. "I've never been to a mall like this before," he said expressionless and Jeremy nodded. He could guess why not. He could guess what short chain the Ravens had put on Jean... figuratively and literally.

"Neither was I until a few years ago. I was actually born and raised in a small town in the middle of nowhere, between eternally big fields and the horizon somewhere in the distance. There was no such thing...when I got here for the first time, I was amazed like crazy and spent my entire money here." Jeremy carefully chose something light that he could tell. Something beautiful that might lure Jean out of his hiding place.  
"Is it as sunny there as it is here?" Jean asked and Jeremy nodded.  
"It’s hotter in the summer, but there is more rain."

Jean didn't say anything about it, but Jeremy saw how he was thinking about what he had just heard. For the first time Jeremy there was something like interest in Jean, even if it was crushed only seconds later.  
"I can show you pictures of our farm if you like," Jeremy offered, and was confronted with an uncertainty he already knew well. There was a no in Jean's eyes, but his lips apparently did not dare to say it. Jeremy smiled.  
"Only if you want to. Just let me know when you want to see them," he said and pointed to the sports store in front of them. "Sports gear?"

Jean silently followed his finger with his gaze and Jeremy took the lead when he was sure that he would not receive an answer. It didn't escape Jeremy's attention that Jean was completely overwhelmed with the assortment of clothes and was getting more and more nervous.  
"Do you have a particular brand you like to wear," he asked as calmly as possible and was rewarded with a minimalistic head shake.  
"What do you think about trying things on and then deciding what to take with you?

Jeremy could have easily suggested running the gauntlet as fast as the body next to him froze.  
"Try it on?" Jean asked hoarsely, and Jeremy made a sound of agreement. He turned to Jean slowly enough that the backliner was not frightened by his movements.  
"We can also buy the clothes and you try them on at our dorm. You can do it in peace and quiet and without meeting sceptical-looking athletes from other sports." It was intended as a joke, but the moment the words left Jeremy's mouth, he realized that Jean hadn't taken it as a joke.

The other boy hunched his shoulders to protect himself from glances that did not really exist. It had been just a stupid joke, simply put. One too many, Jeremy scolded himself silently.  
"Ah... not that someone is looking, that was just a phrase," he tried to appease, but failed, as so often, because his fate stood in his way at every opportunity and threw sticks between his legs.

"Captain Sunshine!", a voice, which he knew only too well and which of course attracted the attention of the surrounding customers, boomed through the store.  
"Captain, my Captain!"  
Jeremy turned around, grinning. "Ajeet...you here?," He had only seconds to be surprised before he was pulled into a crushing hug and was lifted effortlessly from the ground. Jeremy groaned under the strong grip of their second goalkeeper, who seemed to want to break every bone in his body.  
"Where else should I be?"  
"With your parents at work! I'm surprised they let you leave the shop at all."

They all knew Ajeet's stern parents, who were as proud of their son as they were proud of his good grades and his work at home in their local company, especially during the semester break. Jeremy did not envy him for the proximity of his parents' home to the university.  
"I sneaked away, but don't tell them," thundered the giant of a boy who was also a bit taller than Jean. Effortlessly Jeremy was once again the smallest in the group with the two giants here.  
He grinned. "Sure thing! I promise."  
"Are you shopping with your...", Ajeet asked and, to the horror of Jean, turned abruptly to him. "...oh my gosh, that's Jean Moreau! Dude! That's a long way from Evermore to L.A.! What are you here for? Exchange? Courtesy call to get out of the castle?"

Yeah, fate definitely liked to fuck him over.

Jeremy looked discreetly around and realized that the customers who were closest to them were staring at them. That was exactly what he had tried to prevent, because that scared Jean so much that he stood stiffly next to them and didn't move at all, his hands clenched into fists, their skin stretched white around his knuckles, his face programmed with cold rejection.

Jeremy cleared his throat. "Jean, may I introduce one of our goalies, Ajeet Anand. Don’t worry, he only looks like he could uproot a tree with his bare hands, but he is a very kindhearted soul."  
Jeremy really tried, he tried to make the situation more pleasant for Jean, but Ajeet had also a deal with destiny. Of course.  
"That's not true at all, don't you remember last year when we did the community service at the retirement home? I ripped out a tree with my bare hands," Ajeet told them proudly.

Jeremy remembered. It had been funny then and it was funny now. But a look in Jean's face told him that the other boy was not amused at all.  
Jeremy lowered his voice and distracted Ajeet's attention from Jean. "Ajeet, Jean is our new backliner. The deal was freshly made and it was supposed to be a surprise for you guys... after the semester break."

For one second, there was surprised silence and Jeremy saw Jean relax and look into Ajeet's eyes. Jeremy saw this as progress, and watched with inner horror as his giant goalkeeper pulled Jean into a devouring embrace and patted him on the back so furiously that Jean groaned in pain.

_Oh. No._

Jeremy wasted far too much time with staring while Ajeet hugged Jean so tightly that nothing could fit between them. This in itself was nothing unusual for him, as Ajeet had seamlessly introduced his family tradition to the Trojans. Here, however, it was an impending catastrophe of which Ajeet was not even aware, but Jeremy was.

Jean did not move, his arms motionless at his sides. His face had lost all color and his eyes showed the surprised and frightened horror of people who had not expected what was happening to them right now. Jeremy wondered in panic if he should pull them both apart, making the scene more awkward than it already was, but then Ajeet let go of Jean.

"I'm glad you're here! It's going to be awesome with you as a Trojan, I'm really looking forward to it!" Unsuspecting as Ajeet was, he beamed at the motionless boy, who did not look at either of them, but stood in front of them like a statue, his eyes absent. Only now did Jeremy see the trembling that had gripped Jean's entire body and put a hand on Ajeet's arm. Confused, Ajeet met Jeremys eyes. „Is…is everything okay?“

It was not. Not at all.

"Jean...?," Jeremy asked tentatively. Jean remained silent and it took Jerey two attempts before the gray eyes paid him even the slightest attention.  
"No." Jean pressed the word out and took a step back, while shaking his head. "No." Another one, this time even more shaky. One more step.  
"Jean, maybe you should sit down, you look a little shaken."  
His suggestion was ignored in favor of further steps away from them.  
"Shall we go back to the car?" Jeremy asked out of impulse, and Jean shook his head. His outstreched hand was more than a subtil signal for Jeremy to not go forward.

Still caught in this disturbing trance, Jean turned around and left abruptely the store, leaving them here. Jeremy tried to follow him, but Ajeet stopped him with one hand on his arm. Regretfully, he looked down at Jeremy.  
"Leave him, Cap. I think he just needs a little space. I'm sorry I messed up," he lowered his head and Jeremy sighed.  
"You didn't screw up anything, you couldn't know he wasn't into hugs."  
"He was afraid of me, Jer."

It was not really a question and Jeremy saw the spark of dismay that had already found its way into his goalkeeper's self-confidence. Nothing was worse for Ajeet than people thinking he was going to hurt them. His own family history was too tainted by his grandfather's violence for that. Ajeet never had anything bad in mind. Never ever.  
"He doesn't like getting touched by or getting in contact with other people," Jeremy tried to explain what he couldn't explain himself, because he wouldn't pass on everything he would have to say about it to a third person without Jeans' consent. However, he would also not allow Ajeet to reproach himself ruthlessly for hugging the other boy.

With Jean already out of his sight and taking Kevin's warning seriously never to let the ex-Raven out of his sight, Jeremy made a decision that he hoped would not lead to disaster this time.  
"Tomorrow afternoon at the court...a first practice, you, him and me?" he asked and Ajeet nodded mutely.  
"That would be great, but I don't want to frighten him any further."  
"I have an idea how this will not happen," Jeremy replied, "Now please don't be angry with me, but I'll see if he's okay."  
"Okay, Cap. I'll let my parents know."  
"You do that and please say hello to your mom and dad from me."

Jeremy waved and ran out of the store, only to discover that Jean was nowhere to be seen. He had just vanished, and Jeremy cursed heavily. Kevin's urgent warning not to leave Jean alone because a Raven didn't know what it was like to be alone was written in big, bright letters above this catastrophe and Jeremy feared the worst.  
The expression on Jean's face had been nothing more than sheer panic and this could not mean anything good. He had been afraid to be touched. He had been in pain. His face had been distorted in pain when Ajeet patted him on the back.

Damn it!

To find Jean in the mall was like looking for a needle in a haystack. Maybe he didn't want to be found at all, or was angry, hated him, was afraid...there were plenty of possibilities.  
Whatever it was, Jeremy had to find Jean, so he searched the entire mall. First systematically the paths they had already taken, the stores he had explained to Jean.  
Nothing...there was nothing. Jean was nowhere to bei found.

Only when he was sure he had searched the entire mall did Jeremy run back to the parking garage and walked back to his car, which he had parked on one of the upper decks. It was shadowy, but still warm enough for him to break out in a sweat from the running.

Jeremy arrived at his car, but Jean was not to be found there either. He became painfully aware that the other boy had a mobile phone but they had not yet exchanged their numbers. Surely Kevin could help him but Jeremy was reluctant to bother the Foxes‘ striker again and explain why he sounded so panicky because he damn well was. Jeremy tugged at his hair and went to search the entire floor of the parking garage before he would take the option of calling Kevin, despite his reluctance. He searched every nook on this level, losing gradually his hope that he would find Jean and explain it all to him. Until...

He suddenly heard a soft voice in the last, darkest and quietest corner of the deck. The voice itself was very familiar to him, even though he had not heard it as often as he had wanted to hear it in the past four days.  
Behind an old, shabby rust bucket, in the last corner of the parking garage, sat Jean. It was quiet around them, so Jeremy could make out the almost whispered words of the other boy, which he thought were a monologue at first.  
The female voice that Jean answered contradicted his assumption.

"I can't do this, Renee," the backliner murmured and Jeremy took a step closer, even though he already had a guilty conscience that he was about to overhear a conversation that wasn't meant for him. "Everything is so different here. They are all so different. Nothing here is like Evermore or..."  
The female voice - Renee Walker - sighed and it was such a soft, compassionate sound that it inevitably made Jeremy's heart hurt. He knew her from their games and banquets and she had never been anything but kind to him, but that was it. Friendly and polite. This, however, was something entirely different.

"He just hugged you," she replied and Jeremy knew exactly what she meant. Who they were talking about. "Some people just do that."  
"Nobody just does something like that."  
She laughed. "We've also hugged each other."  
Jean growled and Jeremy raised his eyebrows in surprise. He liked the unexpected sound in all his open humanity. "This is something different."  
"Because I asked you before if it’s okay."  
"Because you... are you."  
Renee sighed heavily. "Oh, gorgeous.... he certainly didn't mean any harm."  
"He slapped me on the back."  
"Kindly?"  
"I don‘t know? Sure as hell not."  
"Why?"

Silence followed Renee's words, and Jeremy's treacherous feet brought him a little closer, so he could catch a glimpse of Jean sitting with his legs drawn up, his back leaning against the old truck and talking to Renee, who was smiling at him on the screen of his mobile phone.  
"You could ask him," suggested the Foxes' goalie and Jean snorted.  
"Even if he would answer, does it matter?"  
"Yes, because it will help you understand them."

Again there was silence, then Jean let his head fall back against the door of the car with a dull thud. "Even the coach is different. He shook my hand. He said something about easy drills. Why does he do and say such things? The Master would never have..."  
Renee growled and Jeremy winced in surprise. He would never have thought that such a deep, angry sound, which even outshone Kevin's rumble, would come out of this tender person.

But hadn’t she been the one who had taken Jean from Evermore? Kevin's words. Unwillingly, Jeremy wondered how she had done it, even though he wasn't sure if he really wanted to hear the answer.  
"No one is like Moriyama, Jean. This man is no comparison to the rest of the league. Not for Wymack, not for Rhemann or anyone else. He's a filthy asshole, a disgusting shithead. The others ain't. Rhemann's really nice. He'd never do anything to hurt you." 

Her words made Jeremy shiver. Master? He had guessed that Evermore was something completely different from the rest of the Class I league, but that bordered on being a violent sect. A coach who let himself be called Master? It matched the impression he had gained from the opposing team on many occasions, especially at banquets. Always together, a single, black bunch, contemptuous of others, with a playing style that was at best terms unsportsmanlike. Every move had been a show of aggressiveness that made Jeremy wonder how to maintain such a level of violence even in their sport. And Moriyama as a coach, an undisputed authority, whose word was the law.

He snorted quietly as he thought of the countless times he hadn't escaped Jean on the court and had been pushed against the walls or checked to the ground, all on the fine line of legality. There had been games against the Ravens when he had hobbled off the field beaten black and blue and had been attracting attention on the beach for weeks afterwards because he looked like he had been abused.

The aggressiveness seemed to have its origins in their former coach and Jeremy felt nothing but anger and scorn for such behavior, but it also made him proud of his own team. They were not and would never be like that.

"I don't know how to believe that," Jean admitted and Jeremy squared his shoulders. He took a deep breath and went around the car.  
"But I do," he replied, knowing that his presence would frighten the ex-Raven. Jeremy gave Jean his best, softest smile but he could not prevent Jean from dropping the mobile phone from his hand.

Jeremy waited and when the other boy didn't bother to pick it up, he bent down and turned the screen so he could see Renee.  
"Hi," he greeted her with a small grin and she waved back.  
"My ass…Captain Sunshine!"  
Jeremy rolled his eyes. Not her, too. How far had this spread? "Listen, rainbow girl...," he stated playfully, sitting down on the floor next to Jean and holding the mobile phone so that they were both visible. Not an easy thing to do, given the distance between Jean and him, but with a few contortions manageable. Renee laughed.  
"Were you eavesdropping, Knox?" she asked with an raised eyebrow in rebuke while Jean sat stiff as a stone next to him.  
"Just a few minutes and long enough to fight for my... for our coach's honor," he joked back and she snorted.  
"Oh? Is that so. Than fight!"

Jeremy nodded and held the phone out to Jean. "Here, that's yours," he said to the boy, whose hands had restlessly lain in his lap and who was now painfully surprised to have his phone back. Silently, Jean continued to hold it so that they were both visible and Jeremy couldn't help but notice the latent trembling that had taken possession of Jean‘s hands. The bewilderment in the gray eyes hurt him.

Jeremy took a deep breath, theatrically even, but humorous enough to relax the situation. He turned slightly towards Jean, after all it was all about calming his backliner. He half-turned to Renee to avoid leaving Jean in the focus of his full attention and thus frighten him further. He told her what he wanted to say about their coach, even though he knew that the information was more important for Jean.

"Rhemann's way of training is a bit like a strict but loving circus director herding his cats, trying to make sure they don't run in all directions and that they all do what they need to do. Sometimes this works, often he is partially successful and very often we are a chaotic bunch of people who just enjoy and love what we are doing and have a good time training together. Even if he seems grumpy, Rhemann is basically happy with us and doesn't want to miss us. Last year, for example, he had a nasty flu that he caught during his skiing vacation. So I had to film the court training with his tablet so that he could be part of our drills. He loves this sport and he loves the sportsmanship and the sense of togetherness that comes with it. And he loves us, even though he would never admit it."

Jeremy took a deep breath. Not putting Jean in the center of his focus had been exactly the right decision. The boy sitting next to him had had the opportunity to listen in peace and to be able to reflect on his own thoughts.  
"That's the way we work. As we all know since the last game against the Foxes, we're the good guys but not the smart ones." He winked and she did him the favor of laughing at his bad joke.

"That's what you got the best backliner in our league for," she answered and with fascination Jeremy watched as Jean retracted his head and his earlobes turned red.  
"That's not true," muttered Jean almost inaudibly. Renee snorted.  
"Jean Moreau, please do note that I know what I’m talking about," she rebuked him playfully. With astonishment Jeremy saw something like a smile on Jean's lips and he realized that there was definitely something more going on between the two of them than he had previously assumed.

It had been Renee who had rescued Jean from Evermore with her connections. According to Kevin, she had lobbied for Jean to find another team. She had done even more. Jeremy had heard that at their last banquet Renee had approached the grim Raven, who was notorious in their league for his playing style and his disregard for other players. At some point by the end of the evening, he had seen the two of them together and had actually seen something like emotion on Jean's face.

Was it unreasonable tot hink that the two oft hem were together or at least very close? Not in the least, Jeremy decided.

"If you want to visit Jean, we also have a guest room at our house," he offered with a wink. She understood - unlike Jean - his latent ambiguity and laughed.  
"I have a season to play and I'm going to kick your sorry ass, Captain Sunshine. No time for distractions!"  
"Offer is on, rainbow girl. Just tell Jean to let me know, and I'll get the key for you!"  
She gave him a thumbs-up, while Jean was staring at them with wide eyes. Confused, the eyes flitted across Jeremy's face, searching for the meaning of the words. Jeremy finally came to his senses when Renee apparently didn't think it was necessary to enlighten Jean.  
"This is our small but fine equivalent of THE sock. I can tell you from my own painful experiences with my team."

Jean frowned. "The sock?"  
At first Jeremy believed the words being a wry joke. Who did not know THE sock at the door? Everyone knew that...didn't they?  
Jean, however, made no attempt to break up his joke, so Jeremy realized after a few seconds that the young man sitting next to him had no idea about this university tradition. And this at the age of 21. Fucking Edgar Allan.

Jeremy sighed deeply and smiled. "When someone has his girlfriend or boyfriend visiting and wants some privacy, there is this room in our house. If you don't want to be disturbed, you lock the door, or there's a sock on the door," he explained and saw that this met with understanding. Satisfied, Jeremy nodded and glanced at Renee, who looked at him with a raised eyebrow and shook her head while rolling her eyes.

"By the way, the tall guy next to you likes scrambled eggs for breakfast," she mentioned apparently out of context and Jeans' head shot up in alarm.  
"Renee!", he hissed, as if she had revealed his most intimate secrets, which made Jeans' almost horrifyingly loveable in Jeremy's eyes.  
"Yes, Jean?" she asked innocently, while Jeremy grinned.  
"With toast?", he quickly asked, taking advantage of the good opportunity to playfully find out more about the eating habits of his room neighbor.  
"Two slices."  
" _Renee!_ "

As little as Jeremy liked the latent despair in Jeans voice, he didn't allow himself to be dissuaded from soaking up her words and their exchange like a sponge.  
"Scrambled eggs with two slices of toast, yes," he nodded curtly and turned to Jean, who looked at him as if he were the devil himself.  
"I told you so. I should have made a bet with you, Moreau, I would have been rich," Renee moaned and Jean snorted.  
"You _are_ rich."  
"Even _richer_!"

Jeremy watched the exchange with astonishment. "A bet?" he asked, and before Renee could answer him, it was Jean who shrugged his shoulders.  
"The junkies are addicted to gambling and betting on anything that's not nailed down."

Blinking, Jeremy tried to follow the words, their intonation and Jean's voice coloring, which was so much different than anything the ex-Raven had told him before. There was a pejorative coldness in his voice, which was interspersed with so much cynicism that Jeremy inevitably wondered if Jean wasn't insulting Renee with his words. The tone he had just heard was exactly the backliner Jean Moreau, whom Jeremy had met in recent years. And yet he also thought he heard humor in it, even though Jeremy was not sure of it.

Not as sure as Renee, who grinned up to her ears. "We still have a bet going on," she said with some satisfaction and Jean rolled his eyes again. Fascinated, Jeremy watched him, him and his open facial expressions, which he apparently gave Renee so generously, as he so vehemently denied them to Jeremy himself.  
"Tell Josten and Minyard...", Jean began, but Renee clicked her tongue rebukingly.  
"Tell them yourself, the numbers are saved in your phone."

What exactly was wrong with this sentence, Jeremy could not say exactly. However, it caused any openness in Jean's face to give way to a lack of expression that almost hurt physically. Renee noticed this change of mood as much as he did and sighed.  
"Go ahead, ask him," she gently asked Jean. Shaking his head silently, Jean refused her, his gaze lowered and his eyes pointedly turned in another direction. It was all about him, recognized Jeremy and, asking, he tilted his head. Jean should - and wanted? - ask something, but didn't dare?  
"Jean. It's okay," he said, hopefully calm enough to not stop the backliner from asking his question. "What do you want to know?"  
An expectant, but also tense quiet returned between the two of them. Jeremy needed patience for this, but in the end it paid off when Jean looked up again and first met Renee's gaze, who nodded to him silently.

Only then did he half turn to Jeremy, his whole attitude programmed for defense. "May I... keep the phone?" Jean finally asked, maltreating his lower lip restlessly between his teeth. Confused, Jeremy tried to make sense of the question.  
"It's your phone. Why shouldn't you be allowed to?"  
The surprise he saw in the gray eyes hurt. It hurt and tore at his naive idea that everyone had human rights that had to be respected. Apparently, Jean had not experienced it that way, which even reached up to the possession of a cell phone.

"Am I allowed to write with others?"  
If the previous question had been already bad, this one neatly broke Jeremys heart. Why shouldn't Jean be allowed to do that? Why should anyone forbid him?  
"Was it forbidden in Evermore?", he asked cautiously and was rewarded with a nod, which, through its neutrality and expressionlessness, revealed much of the suffering that lay behind it.  
"With us, everyone has the freedom to do what they want and writing messages with oder talking on a cell phone or expressing their own opinion is clearly part of it. We see limits only in hard drugs, criminal offences and discriminatory or racist behaviour.“  
Jean thought about Jeremy‘s words for a few moments and finally dared to make eye contact again.  
"Thank you."  
It almost physically hurt Jeremy to be thanked for something so trivial. Just as it hurt him that Jean's tone of voice was so different from the one he used with Renee. Jean wasn't afraid of her, but he was apparently afraid of him.  
"No need to thank me," he answered with his throat closed and smiled forced. Jean blinked and then swallowed. He glanced briefly at his cell phone and Renee nodded in the corner of Jeremy's eye.

"Would you like to go back to the mall, Jean?" Jeremy asked, alone to distract him from the bad topic, and received a shake of the head.  
"The small store..." In itself, the sentence made no sense and Jeremy realized belatedly that it was actually a request.  
"Sure. I'd love to."  
"Buy something not black, it'll look good on you," Renee interfered and attracted attention from both of them. Jean said nothing, only Jeremy grinned.  
"Aye aye, boss lady," he agreed and she stuck her tongue out at him.  
"I'm expecting a picture, Jean," she admonished him, and Jean made an indeterminate sound of agreement.

Jeremy himself rose with a groan and knocked the dust off his shorts. He took his time until Jean had said goodbye to Renee and then turned around. Calmly he looked Jean in the eyes and reached out his hand to his backliner to pull him up.

They had been in a similar position before. They had played against the Ravens and Jeremy had actually managed to get through to Jean, with the result that they both had fallen to the ground. Jeremy had picked himself up first and had seen that Jean was apparently still too dazed to get back up himself. He had reached out his hand to him, but Jean had knocked it away with a scornful look, only to laboriously and obviously in pain try to get himself up again.

Now it was different. Jean measured his hand as if it could give him an answer to Jeremy's motivation. The moment between the two of them dragged on for long seconds before he actually let Jeremy help him up. Jeremy smiled with joy.  
"Ajeet wasn't going to hurt you. He is a big, sweet bear who hugs everyone who comes near him. He's happy you're with us, so he hugged you."  
Jean met his gaze with too much doubt before giving him a minimal nod. Silently, he turned to the car and put his hand on the passenger side door handle, apparently waiting for Jeremy to unlock.

"Umm..." Jeremy rubbed his neck with embaressement. "This is not my car..."

Slowly Jean turned to him. He was piercingly stared at and Jeremy smiled crookedly as he pointed to his old car behind them and noticed that the backliner's ears were blushing. Like…really blushing. Needless to say that Jeremy was charmed.

"I wouldn't drive around in such a goddam awful rust truck," he joked, reaping the jackpot for the whole day: a snort that was well on his way to be amused.

Not bad for the fifth day.

~~~~~~~~~~  
_To be continued._


	8. Becoming human

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first practice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear readers,
> 
> thank you very much for all your klicks, kudos and comments. It means so much for me. :3 I hope that you will enjoy the new part, too. ^_^v
> 
> Have a good time and stay safe, wear a mask ;)!

Jean watched Knox's usual sleep ritual of spinning around, pillow creasing, and making noises as he sat on his own bed and listened to his body screaming at him to get some sleep. Not that it held the slightest possibility für Jean. Not in this bed, this room. Not near Knox, not within earshot of the other boy, who would surely be awakened by his nightmare induced screams Jean did not want to explain.

But Jean knew that he had to sleep and so the sheer necessity of physical need outweighed his fear of reprisals.  
The question of where he could lie down had been answered involuntarily by Knox when he showed him the cellar. There was a storage room there that was apparently not often used. At night he would probably be safe there and no one would hear him when Jean, trapped in his dreams, would scream and lash out.

Jean rose, his heart wildly beating. Never before had he sneaked away from his captain at night. Never before had he been so rebellious and disobedient to resist his situation. He was correspondingly nervous when he picked up his cell phone and his own apartment key and stepped silently into the hallway. 

For minutes Jean listened to Knox's noises and then opened the door, stepping out into the quiet hallway. Silently he closed it again and paused for a moment. When nothing stirred, he went down into the basement, whose crispness and darkness were inevitably familiar to him. There was no light, no stars and no sun. Here was Los Angeles as dark as Evermore ever had been. Alone this feeling and the connected habit, bitter and cynical as it was, calmed his fluttering nerves.

It was Evermore without Riko.

Jean found the room again after some searching and discovered a small space between boxes on the floor where he could lie down. The floor would be cool and hard, nothing he wasn't already used to. The boxes would be a good visual barrier between him and possible intruders who would enter the room.

Slowly Jean let himself sink to the floor and leaned his aching back against the basement wall. The giant monster of a goalkeeper had struck one of the healing injuries on his back and he already suspected that there would be a problem with it next week during the medical examination.  
Jean closed his eyes and listened to the silence of the basement while his thoughts involuntarily returned to his new captain.

Knox was a problem for him. A big one. A Renee-kind of problem.

His plan to push the other boy away from him and to keep him away from himself was still valid, but however strictly Jean had set out to do this, Knox broke through this resolution so easily with his enduring gentleness, his considerate gestures and respectful words.  
When he had fled from the apparent violence of the USC goalkeeper, it had been Renee who had guided him through the panic attack he had inevitably slipped into after finding his safe place in the parking garage. He had again reached out his hand to her and asked her for help. She had heard him, as she had always heard him.

An act of incomprehension, even now.

Perhaps that had been the reason why Knox had had such an easy game with his emotions. With fear, caution, dismay, and even hope. As soon as Jean entered the mall, it had been hard for Jean to remain dismissive in his struggle against all the impressions he had experienced and to exclude the other boy and his never-ending explanations. Jean did not dare to tell Knox to shut up, so he let the captain's explanations about the stores and his home country rain down on him in all its wordy glory. Jean had even asked questions about Knox's life. Pointless questions in retrospect, because he would never be able to enjoy the vastness of Knox's parental home, no matter how wonderful such an environment looked in his imagination.

Renee teaming up with Knox was extremely dangerous, as she made Jean forget what boundaries he had to maintain with his captain. She opened him up to everything that should not be open to the blond boy. Knox now knew what he liked for breakfast. That in itself would have been a small matter if the captain had not agreed to allow him to have it once Renee had answered his questions.

As emphatically and vehemently as Jean had fought in recent years for the hope that had allowed him to survive day after day in Evermore, he was now waging war against the very part of his inner self that wanted to whisper to him that it was different than he had thought. That it could be different here than at Edgar Allan.

Jean could not and would not allow that to happen.

For years, he had been forced to have a partner, forced to not be alone. This indoctrination was now responsible for Jean's reluctance to scare Knox away. It made him scream internally in horror at the thought and the fight between the two sides almost robbed him of his sleep until he realized that his partner did not have to like him. Neither Josten nor Riko had had any positive feelings towards him. If he could achieve this status with Knox without him leaving him alone...

Slowly Jean lay down on the stone floor and put the hood of Renee's gift sweater over his head. The Rainbow Girl, as Knox had called her. Jean tried it out in his mind and had to admit to himself that he liked it.  
Just like her sweater, which gave him warmth, not only physically. He tucked his arm under his cheek, which wasn't exactly like the soft pillow he had bought, but was perfectly adequate. He had set his cell phone alarm clock to such an early time that he would wake up before Knox and could return without his captain noticing.

Jean pulled his legs to his body and closed his eyes. He knew the nightmares would come. Reliable as he was, his mind mirrored to him the terrible things Riko had done to him and had them done to him, just so that he would not forget who he was, where he belonged, and that his life had no value except to be a minor, broken tool.

~~**~~

To say that Jeremy was nervous would have been a blatant understatement.

He had every reason to be, because there were two battles to fight with an outcome he could not yet foresee.  
One was the reunion between Jean and Ajeet. The second one was the first training session with the former backliner of the Ravens, whose skills he had previously only known as impressive and terrifying.

After their conversation in the parking garage, Jean had retreated into his thoughtful silence, which Jeremy had filled with trivialities about SoCal and L.A. and the people who lived there.  
They had made it to the small athletic store where Jean had actually found his gear for training, including a gym bag that he had taken a long look at. Jeremy had not missed this and he had _accidentally_ put it on the counter when Jean came out of the locker room with his sports gear. With his most charming smile he had defeated the rising resistance Jeremy had seen on the serious face.

The fact that the bag was the same color as the hooded sweater Jean had been wearing when he arrived here had not escaped Jeremy‘s notice.

This morning he had made Jean his preferred breakfast and had been rewarded with red ears again from the sleepy boy, whose dark circles under his eyes were not as dark as on the first days here.  
Jean had eaten all of the scrambled eggs with the two slices of toast and Jeremy had definitely not been able to suppress his satisfied smile.  
After their breakfast had he brought up Ajeet again, and this time it had been cool neutrality that had answered to Jeremy's careful words.

Which had let to this moment. He was standing here, fully dressed, in the court's players' cabin, tying his chin long hair in a half-ponytail while waiting for Jean to come out of the changing room. He had given the other boy space and time to get used to their court and to change in peace and solitude. This also meant that Jeremy had to keep his nervousness in check somehow, which in turn led to him running up and down the court stairs again and again, stretching himself briefly, running again, stretching...until Jean stepped out of the hallway and stared frowningly at him.

Jeremy paused and could not help but look at the unusual sight for a moment longer than it was appropriate. To see Jean in colors other than red and black was more than unusual and seemed disturbingly strange at first. The backliner's stature, however, was familiar to Jeremy. The balanced distribution of muscles over the body proportions made him a fearsome player and an attractive young man in equal measure. Jean wore the classic tight, short sports pants, with shorts on top. The long-sleeved shirt was also in dark blue and matched the black sweatbands around his wrists. Jean had also tied his hair back with a ribbon so that the terribly bald patches on his scalp were not visible.

They were here half an hour earlier than Ajeet and their coach so Jean could get used to his new practice ground in peace.  
"We're doing light exercises today, not much more than conditioning, speed and precision, since the coach probably won't have your protective gear with him yet. From next week on, we'll start the real training with the other Trojans."  
His words were met with a critical frown. "I am able to play without protective gear", Jean replied neutrally and Jeremy raised his eyebrow.  
"Is that how it was done in Evermore?", he asked neutrally and received a nod. In retrospect, he was not surprised, Jeremy admitted to himself. Nevertheless, he clearly had to define the boundaries of the Trojans, not that Jean got the wrong idea.

"We don’t do that at USC, we think differently. Protection is our top priority, at least when it comes to real training," he made their rules clear once again, more captain than player at this moment. Jeremy saw how Jean reacted rather unconsciously to this and tensed his shoulders.  
"Understood."  
Jeremy smiled conciliatory. "Come on, let's run a few easy laps and start stretching before Ajeet and the coach arrive.

Jean let him enter first and Jeremy closed the door behind them. Together they walked to the runnig course and Jeremy set a pace that Jean could easily maintain. It was slower than he would normally run, but given Jean's still unresolved health status and the injuries that had not yet healed completely, he preferred to be more careful.  
After four laps that hadn't even made Jean sweat despite the temperatures and despite the break, it was indeed the ex-Raven who spoke to him.

"Is this your normal pace?" he asked outrageously not out of breath at all and Jeremy shrugged his shoulders.  
"No, actually I'm running them a little bit faster. I just thought we'd take it slow because you're not quite back in shape yet."  
Jean snorted. "How many laps in total?"  
"Let's say six more," Jeremy returned and Jean nodded before he set a pace that was diametrically different from their previous one, leaving Jeremy wondering if they were already at the sprint or still warming up.

He tried to keep up to Jean's pace, but after another three laps Jeremy failed magnificently due to his own endurance and strength. He looked to Jean, who literally ran away from him and left him far behind. Slowly Jeremy got back into his own pace and cursed his semester break, during which he hadn't trained nearly hard enough for this in order to keep up with Jean, who seemed determined enough to win a marathon.

Kevin had started to tell him about Raven drills and Jeremy was amazed and appalled at the vicious and absolute discipline they had. Actually, he shouldn't have been surprised that Jean was used to a different pace and, as it seemed, continued to push himself to perform at his best.

When Jeremy came to him after his last lap, Jean was already stretching and just gave him a quick glance.  
"Don't tell me that's your normal speed," he puffed and dropped to the ground next to Jean. When Jeremy didn't get an answer, he set about loosening and warming up his muscles just like Jean did.

At least until Ajeet arrived and entered the stadium with a happy grin. He gently closed the Plexiglas door behind him, and even more cautiously entered the field. If the situation hadn't been so serious, Jeremy would have felt like screaming "The ground is lava!" at that moment, as much as Ajeet was moving on raw eggs. Perhaps that would have eased the tense silence a bit, but Jeremy didn't want to challenge his luck, so he kept silent and waved to Ajeet, who had already thrown himself into his red-gold Trojan uniform. Ajeet waved back shyly before his eyes turned to Jean, who pointedly ignored him, but watched him out of the corner of his eyes.

"Hey," he greeted and sat down next to them, his eyes still on Jean. "Um...Jean...hey...I just wanted to say I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking when I hugged you. If I scared you or if I hurt you or if you felt uncomfortable, then I'm sorry. Of course, I won't touch you if you..."  
"I do not need your pity or your excuses," Jean cut him off, and Jeremy frowned at the unexpected brusqueness oft he former Raven.  
"Jean...", he tried to divert the dismissive attention away from Ajeet, whose cheeks had turned fiery red from the unkind words. Jean just looked at him and Jeremy raised his eyebrows.  
"He means well. He doesn’t mean you any harm."  
Jean did not reply, but waited for something more to say, apparently pointedly. When Jeremy didn't say anything further, he shrugged his shoulders and returned to his stretches.

"Hey Ajeet, how about running a few laps and joining us after?"  
Relieved, his goalie nodded and rose to Jean with a last, uncertain look. They waited for a reaction...with no success.

"What the hell was that," Jeremy asked irritated, as Ajeet was on the run, far out of their hearing range. "He really didn't mean any harm. He was apologizing."  
At first it was as if Jean had no intention of answering him, but then the cool, gray eyes turned to him in all their repelling glory.  
"Is it an order that I should be nice to him... captain?"

Jeremy flinched at Jean's cold tone.  
"Of course not, I won't order you to be nice," he began doubtfully and was interrupted by Jean's snort.  
"I'm not here to be nice."  
A word could hardly be more contemptuous and Jeremy couldn't really make sense of where this sudden resentment came from. Neither against Ajeet nor his words.  
"Jean..."  
"I would like to ask permission to exercise."

Every one of Jeremy’s attempts to lure something other than rejection out of Jean failed. Again and again the other boy avoided him and treated him as if they hadn't spent the last few days together. As if they hadn't sat together on the parking garage floor yesterday and talked to Renee on the phone. Cool, neutral, dismissive, that's how the training turned out, even when Coach Rhemann came and supervised the whole thing.

Jean executed the drills and tasks set for him with almost perfect precision, without contradiction or hesitation. Every single movement was precisely calculated, every ball he played was precisely placed and without failure. Jeremy and Ajeet performed far worse, and more than once Rhemann growled disapprovingly at her laziness during the semester break. Jeremy wasn‘t surprised that they both got a penalty lap while Jean was allowed to take a shower, and fatefully, he moved his aching legs a bit longer.

"Cap?", his goalie called out of breath when they finally stopped and Jeremy turned to him with a sigh. "He's really mad at me, isn't he?"  
Perplexed, Jeremy shrugged his shoulders. "Honestly, I have no idea what's gotten into him. I've asked him, but he won't talk about it."  
"Have I done something wrong, Jer?"  
It took sometime for Jeremy to find an answer that did justice to both sides of the situation. "Maybe you should have asked him first if he wanted a hug. You're sorry, though. You said you were sorry. I'm sure he needs some more time to come to terms with the apology. After all, this is all new to him."  
Ajeet was not convinced by his answer, and if Jeremy admitted it, neither was he.

"I think that he didn't have an easy time with the Ravens and that he will have to settle in with us first," Jeremy said, keeping as close and as neutral to the truth as possible. "I hope that he will open up with time."  
Ajeet sighed. "You know, Jer, he reacted like my grandma when he was hugged."

Jeremy nodded. And wasn't his goalie right? His grandmother had fled from her husband's violence from India to America. She was a great woman and they all loved her and she loved her grandson's team, but it was clear that each of the Trojans had to keep a certain kind of distance from her. It was a remnant of the violence she had suffered for years.

"I know, Ajeet, I know.

~~**~~

It was Monday and Jean had the feeling of being on his last legs.

Two days ago he had decided to fight the kindness of the two Trojans off with cold, aversion and silence, even though the goalkeeper's apology had left him both astonished and terrified. Never before had anyone on the team he played for apologized to him.  
He had underestimated how stubborn at least Knox was, who had showered him with the same kindness on Saturday and all Sunday. Every understanding look, every smile shattered Jean's resolution like acid.  
Jean could not remember that in Evermore he had ever found it so difficult to respond to questions with monosyllabic answers. He had never had any problems there to keep the words that pushed to the surface of his self-control.

Here it was the sky, the sun, and the people around him with their miserable friendliness that made him lose his way. Why was he asked what he would like to do? Why was he asked for his opinion? Why was he cared about?

Which of all these was by far the worst.

Knox worried about him. Jean could see that out of the corner of his eyes when his captain measured him in unobserved moments analyzing him. Jean was so disturbed by this that he could not even put into words the feeling that was smouldering inside him.  
Why did the blond boy do this? He hadn't even been a member of his team for what... a week? He was not even a decent human being. He was...property.

Jean could already feel how dangerous Knox's presence was. He hesitated to call himself such. Cal himself property. After a week and after two assurances from a boy he didn't even really know. His iron walls became thin, frayed out just because of...what? Promises that would be broken? Words that were like smoke, without meaning?  
He desperately needed a regular daily routine, consisting only of training and study, where he could just concentrate on and exceed his limits.

Jean hated the little voice inside of him that told him that he would not get the exhausting training and the sixteen hour days he was used to from Evermore.  
This was apparently the price he paid for the fact that no one had ever hurt him or forced themselves onto him... a lax training. A college that gave the students time for leisure.

Free time.

With puzzlement Jean thought about this word. There was no free time for him. Jean lived for their sport, he lived for his task for which he had been bred. Formed by his Master and his deceased captain. Until recently, to read a book alone had seemed unthinkable to him. The nurse had proven him wrong, but yesterday he had Renee's book in his hand without actually reading it. This was not allowed. To go to the beach, as Knox had suggested. That was...unthinkable. Not possible. Not for him.

If Jean succumbed to the illusion that everything he had to learn so far, everything he had been taught was wrong, then everything what the Master and Riko had formed from the remains of his being they had broken, broke into a thousand pieces before he could put an end to his life himself.

Or was he really only afraid of the moment when he might realize that he wanted to live on, and then was disappointed by that very life? Worse still, not being allowed to live on because he had reached his usefulness for the Moriyamas?

Jean did not know and he was happy to be able to concentrate on other things right now. His matriculation, for example, which would complete his transfer from Edgar Allan to USC.

How much Jean had hated himself for having to answer with a no to his captain's far too calm, far too neutral question whether he would rather go to the secretary's office alone. How much he hated himself for his dependance, which at the same time gave him hell for not being able to break free, but had to break free because Knox's presence was dangerous for him. 

Jean hated himself for the sense of calm that Knox gave him when he stood next to him while coach Rhemann and the woman from the student secretariat took care of the formalism that would make him a USC athletic scholarship student.

Jean watched in silence as his coach filled out the form for him and explained the various fields to him. He did not ask how the man got his social security number, which even he did not know. He also did not ask about the bank account number that was entered on the form. If Jean had to guess, he would guess that his scholarship would be reclaimed by Rhemann - it had been like this at Edgar Allan. Property had no right of ownership. He did not need money.

Vicky, at least that was the name on her sign, checked all the documents that had apparently been provided by Edgar Allan in the meantime.  
"There is a problem with your first minor, Mr. Moreau. It is not offered here. You would have to choose another one instead."  
She handed him one of the papers she had been brooding over and he stared at it without really understanding. Confused, he looked at Knox, then at his coach. In Evermore, the Master had ruled over his subjects, but Rhemann apparently made no attempt to take over this task for him.

Jean blinked.

"What would be appropriate?" he asked hesitantly into the room as the silence continued, and now explicitly addressed his coach, who measured him with raised eyebrows.  
"What would you like to do, boy?" he asked and Jean shrugged his shoulders helplessly. How could he make a choice if he had no right to his own interests?  
"How about if I give you a short description of the subjects and you decide afterwards, Mr. Moreau," the woman suggested and after his coach's approval, Jean nodded as well.

Not that he was much wiser afterwards than before. Or that it would play a role...actually. Two months, he had to remind himself of the promise he had made. After two months, the choice of a minor would not matter at all.  
"You like reading, don't you?" Knox stopped his thoughts and Jean nodded. Perhaps... he did not know. At Evermore, everything except for literature that was part of his studies had been forbidden to him.  
"How about literary history?"

Basically, Jean didn't mind. He liked the few moments he had spent reading Renee's book and already felt like reading more. So maybe he should stop testing the patience of his coach and his captain and agree.  
Jean nodded. "Yes," he simply said.  
Vicky nodded and devoted herself to her PC. Fascinated, Jean watched the printer, who now spit out the sheets that would identify him as a student at USC, with his matriculation number, student ID and library card.  
He confirmed receipt with a signature that he had gotten used to writing with broken fingers and finally held the things that would mean perfect normality for a human being in his hands. Jean saw something like this for the first time.

"Do you have any more questions?"

He shook his head silently. He would certainly be led wherever he needed to go, so he didn't have to remember the buildings and paths. Moreover, he would not leave the Trojan's residence or only on the instructions of his captain.  
Doubtfully, he looked into the broad smile of the woman. "Well then, on behalf of USC, I welcome you to our wonderful, chaotic college and hope you have a great time with us!

Jean stared at her wordlessly. Why would you wish for something like that? To have a great time at the university? He had never heard such words before and they seemed like mockery in the face of the atmosphere of fear and oppression that had prevailed at Edgar Allan. A cult, Josten had called Evermore and he had been right. In retrospect.

"Thank you, Vicky," Rhemann said and tore Jean from his dark memories. It was necessary to keep up appearances. Hastily he nodded and followed the man outside, trapped between his coach and Knox. It was not necessary to prevent him from escaping, not even out here. He knew how to behave.

Only when they stood in the shade of a few mighty trees Rhemann handled him another large envelope.  
"Here, this is for you. I have opened a bank account for you. Inside are your cards and pin numbers, your social security card and your passport, in other words, everything that Edgar Allan has sent us.

Jean stared at the thick envelope with incomprehension. He did not quite understand the words Rhemann said to him He hadn't had his passport since he had first come to America. Only when they had flown to away games Riko had handed it over to him and immediately took it away again. Why should he keep it himself now, just like his social security card? Jean thought about asking Rhemann, as a demanding hand reached out and advised him to simply accept the envelope. Cautiously, Jean reached for it, and it was no trick at all. Gently, Rhemann growled and turned to Knox.

"I expect you to be in better shape by Wednesday than the crippled performance of Saturday, Knox. Understood?"  
His captain rolled his eyes as if in pain. "Yes, Coach Sir, as you wish, Coach Sir," he groaned in agony and Jean was once again amazed at the lack of respect he missed in his voice. How could Rhemann put up with that?

But again nothing happened. The man growled, yes. But that was it. "Don't follow you captain's example, Moreau. If your excellent condition matches this snail, I'll let you run extra laps too, understand?"  
"As you wish, Sir," Jean pressed out, unsure what the right answer was, especially considering that Rhemann was already laughing and turning away before he could apparently think of anything else.  
"Oh, and Moreau?"  
"Yes, Sir?"  
"We are not in Evermore, and Moriyama can shove his "Sir" up his ass. I'm the Coach or coach Rhemann. Understood?"  
For the better part of a minute, Jean was busy staring at his new coach, stunned by his choice of words, wondering if anyone had ever spoken about the Master in such an disrespectful way. Then Jean remembered an answer and nodded hastily. "Yes...coach," he pressed out.  
"Good. And now, sod off into the sunshine, kids. It's enough if one of us three spends his time in the office."

So he spoke, leaving them on campus. Jean stared at the envelope in his crooked hands, which had been exposed to more sunshine in the last days than in the entire nine years before them. Astonished, Jean looked down at them before he glanced up at the blue sky above them that seemed so tempting.

_Take a good look at the sky, because you will only see it again when you leave Evermore._

That's what he had said to Josten when he had brought the boy to Evermore. They both had only seen the sky again when Josten had been taken to the airport. Josten had made it through, and for two months now he, too, had been allowed to look up into orbit every day and night and get lost in the clouds, the sun, the stars and the moon, which were so beautiful that it hurt him.  
Especially now that he was able to hold something like a normal life in his hands and pretend to be a normal student. With a passport, a social security card, an account.

"How do I do the money transfers?" Jean asked and glanced at Knox's face, who was just blowing the half-length strands of hair that had come loose from the braid out of his eyes. His red t-shirt had his name in gold lettering on the back, as if the other students didn't already know who he was.  
"Money transfers?"  
"To coach Rhemann."  
Knox frowned, then smiled conciliatory. "Jean, you don't have to pay him back for that."  
"I was talking about the scholarship."

Confusion crept across the freckled, tanned face. "What do you mean?"  
"Coach Rhemann will want the money after all," Jean, for his part, now noted irritatedly and met with growing incomprehension.  
"Why should he?"  
Jean wondered whether the other boy was deliberately playing dumb or whether the Trojans handled it differently. Perhaps he should have asked Rhemann directly? "Because it belongs to him," he clarified, and the blond eyebrows lifted.  
"It belongs to you. It's your scholarship," Knox countered and Jean frowned.

How could anything belong to him? That... was unimaginable.  
"No," he contradicted. "It cannot be."  
"Yes, Jean. Why would coach..." In the middle of the movement Knox faltered and Jean was almost instantly in the focus of this devouring attention, which did not bode well for him.  
"No, Jean." The firm determination with which his captain told him that he had been wrong caused Jean a shiver of discomfort that crept up his back. There was a lack of gentleness in this denial, a lack of the sun in the voice he heard so many times in the last week. It was as if he had done something wrong that he did not know what it was.

And that was life threatening.

Jean swallowed and wanted to apologize when Knox shook his head. "Our coach will never take away your scholarship. It's all yours. The money you receive from the college is yours to use as you please. The account he set up for you is yours alone, no one else has access to it. You decide what to do with the money."  
"Me? But this..." Jean did not know what to do. Anything he would say would bring him back to the point where Knox told him that he was not a property. That was impossible. Not him. He was just...  
"Jean, I meant it when I told you that you were part of our team. You belong to no one but yourself. Your account, your passport, your social security number. Whatever they did with it in the Edgar Allan, here its yours. You are the one who owns all this and who decides what happens to it."

To be honest, Jean had no idea how to make these decisions.

"I don't know how," he finally admitted and turned his gaze away, to one of the red buildings that looked so much friendlier than in West Virginia.  
"Hey, that's what I'm here for. I'm here to help you."

There it was again. There was Knox's dangerous quality of drawing him to his side, of trusting him and suggesting that he could trust him. That everything would be okay. How Jean wanted to believe him in a split second. Something in him battled with all his might against the barriers he had to face, and this something felt the heavy burden of the envelope in his hand like an anchor chaining him to this reality.

There was no question that Jean could and should not allow to believe it. Nevertheless, the part of him that wanted the support nodded, however small and insignificant it might be. Jean silently cursed at himself and made it clear that he would only take advantage of this help when it was absolutely necessary.

They silently made their way back to the house and Jean was lulled by the constant slapping of Knox's sandals on the sidewalk stones. He let his thoughts wander to the breadth of sounds and smells that overwhelmed him in every second of his being here.

Even here, on the campus, where everything was clean and tidy, Jean couldn't really tell everything apart, but had to let himself drift with the impressions. The chirping of the birds. From the warmth of the sun's rays on his skin, which effortlessly dispelled the cold of Evermore. The smell of the sea that had permeated the whole city. From smells and sounds he could not identify. And all people smiled, if they weren't even beaming. Especially when Knox ran into them, which Jean observed once again as they headed back to the Trojan house.

It made Jean wonder what would have become of him if he had been allowed to live a normal life and develop as a human being. A dangerous question, Jean found, and buried it in the last corner of his mind.

"So... what do you think of the Art District," Knox pulled him out of his thoughts, and Jean looked up, irritated, at the grass of the open spaces. The words didn't mean anything to him, so he waited for Knox to explain what he meant. Jean could not quite understand that his ignorance was met with enthusiasm, and the joy on the tanned face made him cautious.

"This is the one and only district in Los Angeles that you have to see, Jean! Lots of cool exhibitions and streetstyle art."  
It explained at least partly what Knox wanted from him, but Jean couldn't really figure it out. He didn't know what to think of the district he didn't know and had never heard of before. Especially since art had been something that had been withheld from him in Evermore.

The principle had been that there were no other interests to be had besides Exy. Everything beyond that had been unnecessary ballast.

"Would you like to visit the district?" Knox specified what he wanted from him and Jean swallowed. It was a direct question, even if he wasn't able to answer it. Did he feel like it? Whether he wanted to? Still caught in the vicious circle of finding an answer, Knox's smile lost some of its radiance and became softer.  
"How about this? We go there and if you don't like it, we just come back here?"

Jean knew that he should say no. He knew that he had to refuse if he wanted to stick to his plan.  
But his cheeky mouth, which blurted out an "Okay." into the summer' s day without consent, did not know that. Knox was not deterred either by the lack of intonation or by his iron refusal to look at the other boy and clapped his hands enthusiastically, which made Jean flinch at first.

Yet Knox was not Riko and no violence followed.

"Oh. Who are they?"

At first Jean couldn't make anything out of the question and only saw that Knox had stopped when he raised his gaze and became aware of the two big black SUVs standing in front of the Trojan's house. As if Jean's heartbeat wasn't already alarmingly elevated, there were now two black-clad security guards from the Moriyamas standing at the entrance to the building, fixing them with a calm gaze.

Not them. _Him._

They fixed him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
_To be continued._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yaih, cliffhanger-time.... :))))


	9. The sun, that damn culprit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean's relationship to the Moriyamas, a vase and the sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For all those who stumbled over the description of Jeremy's half-long hair in the last part... I bumped into [Lina (colourofmag1c)](https://www.instagram.com/colourofmag1c/) during one of my wanderings through the fandom and got stuck on [the following picture sequence](https://colourofmagic.tumblr.com/post/189604588892/and-now-kiss-still-jeremy-and-jean). Since then I am very much in love and very excited about the idea that Jeremy has exactly this length of hair. :3 And - of course - with her art. 
> 
> Thank you again, dear readers, for all of your clicks, kudos, comments. :3 I do appreciate every single bit :)
> 
> Now on to the newest part. Be careful, there's a TW: mentions of rape and torture.

If Jean's heart was beating much faster, it would simply stop and stand still at some point in the near future, probably within the next few minutes. Perhaps that wouldn't be too bad an ending considering the men standing not far from them blocking the way back into the Trojan's house and therefore the room with the window from which Jean could see the stars. The red and gold and completely chaotic one, the living and breathing antithesis to Evermore.

Where they would no doubt bring him back to.

As if rooted, Jean stood still, the envelope of his supposed freedom like a dead weight in his hand. For two months he had been free from the thick walls and code-protected cellars that made up Evermore and now they would call him back. He would never see the sun again, just as he would never again follow the path of the stars or watch a robot making its way across a deserted planet.  
The Master would punish him and punish and punish until there was nothing left of Jean.

The thought of running away and ending his life more quickly and more graciously gained a certain appeal, but in the end Jean was unable to do so, for the same reason that he had set himself a two-month deadline. Jean was not brave enough, had never been. He would have liked to shout out his despair, but he didn't dare to do so either. He stood there like a statue and watched with growing fear that the two men were coming towards him.

It was Knox who pulled him out of his stupor by putting a hand on his arm. More than anything else, the combination of physical contact and everything concerning the Moriyama family was not a good one and made Jean flinch as if his captain had touched him with a red-hot iron. A feeling he knew only too well.  
"Jean, are those men from Evermore?", Knox asked almost in panic, and Jean wondered involuntarily why he was the one whose voice was doused with fear. "Talk to me, Jean! Are those Moriyama's men?"  
He had apparently nodded - even though he couldn't remember.

"Run!", his captain's order was almost too sharp and harsh for him not to follow. His legs almost started to move before he remembered that the Moriyamas were above everything, even his captain's orders. Of course, Jean would bear the punishment for this if he ever returned to Los Angeles. Unlikely, but at that moment Jean realised that he would a thousand times rather bear any punishment that Knox imposed on him than fall into the hands of the Master again.

Jean silently shook his head and stilled when the men reached him. Again it was Knox who did the talking for him.  
"Get out of here or I'll call campus security," his captain bravely faced the men, who measured him like an annoying insect before focusing on Jean. Only now did Jean notice that Knox stood between him and them. 

The left one of them cleared his throat, pointedly ignoring the captain of the Trojans. "Mr. Moreau, Mrs. Suarez would like to speak to you and we would like you to come with us."

Jean frowned. Mrs. Veronica Suarez was the senior corporate lawyer of the Moriyamas. She would not bother with such a trifle as his return to Evermore. She was the one to do the legal dirty work, the grey eminence behind the main branch's horrible deals.

"Jean, you are not going do that," Knox pulled him out of his thoughts and, naive as he was, turned to the men standing before him. "And you will leave the campus now."

To be honest, Jean would never have thought that Knox's voice could sound so vicious. So angry. Jean wished he could hide behind that voice from the men in black and escape them, but he couldn't. Maybe Knox wouldn't be in danger because he wasn't one of them. The Trojans were pure and unsullied by the illegal activities of the family.  
"Please go into the house," Jean addressed his first words to Knox, his eyes respectfully lowered to the ground.  
"No, Jean, I'm not leaving you alone. Remember, we're a team, and we're not gonna let each other down."

How much Jean had always wanted Kevin to say these words and how painful the feeling of betrayal had been when the other boy had suddenly left and never returned to Evermore. How bitter his loneliness and sense of betrayal had been.  
How Jean had wished for more words like this to show him that there was only one person on earth who felt some kind of affection for him and did not treat him like an annoying, useless thing.

As much as he had wished for it, they came too late now, leaving nothing but painful splinters of broken hope in him.

"This is not a matter for the team. This is about something entirely different," Jean Knox tried to calm down, even if that met with little understanding.  
"No, you don't have to be afraid, Jean. We'll get through this."  
Jean snorted and shook his head in the face of such naivety. He took one step around Knox and was now the one who stood between him and Evermore. His captain didn't like that at all and raised his hand in protest, apparently to hold him back. Jean backed away from him.

"It's all right, Knox," he pressed out harshly. "I've expected nothing else."  
"No, it's not all right. I'm calling the police, this is kidnapping, they won't get away with it!"  
If he was honest, Jean did not understand Knox's resistance to his return to Evermore. He hardly knew him. He'd only known him for a week. He had more than enough backliners in his 28-person team, so what did it matter whether he was here or not?  
"Your assessment in this regard is flawed. Please..." Yes, what exactly did Jean ask for? That Knox did not risk his own life? That he didn't tie this apparently still pure team with some kind of contract to a crime syndicate that would gut them and blackmail them? Tarnish them?

The right of two men cleared his throat and only now did Jean notice that his ear was wired up. "Mrs. Suarez would like to point out that this is merely a conversation to be conducted in private. It has no effect on the contract concluded with the local college and is intended to clarify any ambiguities that may have arisen.

Both Knox and he paused in surprise. Jean blinked without understanding and wondered if this was a trap. But why should they bother, if he would go along with them?  
"What does it mean?" Knox spoke again and the man measured him with a raised eyebrow.  
"That means that this conversation will take place in the car and you will stay here, Mr Knox. If you call security or otherwise draw attention to yourself in a negative way, this conversation will continue in a place you do not know and I would like to guarantee that it will not be a pleasant conversation for Mr Moreau. It is up to you and your cooperation to decide how the conversation between Mrs Suarez and Mr Moreau will proceed".

Playing one off against the other was Evermore at the bottom of its deep black heart. So Jean was not surprised that the man resorted to such methods, even though it clearly shocked Knox. Inevitably Jean wondered how good and naive someone could be to be shocked by this.

"How do I know you're not lying to me and kidnapping him anyway?"  
"Our clients have no interest in continuing his contract with Evermore." More than anything else, these words gave Jean hope that he could stay here. They didn't want him back? That was the best and at the same time most terrible news he had heard in the last few months. He didn't have to go back into the darkness... but after all he had sacrificed for them over the last years, they rejected him.

"I'm going with you."  
"Jean!

He did not react, but took a step forward, then another step. At the third he stumbled over his own feet, but caught himself again and continued walking towards his destiny. Jean couldn't bear the sight of the SUVs, so he directed it towards the grass on the sideways, which was so wonderfully green, and traced the sun burning on his skin. He memorised it as if it were the most precious thing in the world. The smell of summer accompanied him as he made his way into the black car whose door opened and whose cold darkness swallowed him as the gates of Evermore had done each time.

Jean looked at Mrs Suarez and followed her finger pointing to the bench that was still empty. He sat down in silence and lowered his gaze to the ground, as he had been taught to do. Silently, how he had to behave, until the woman whose name he had only seen as a shadow before addressed him.  
The only time she had been in Evermore was after Kevin's escape. Jean had not been conscious enough at that time to take any notice of her presence.

This mercy was not granted to him now and he felt her burning gaze on him as he kept his eyes on her legs. The envelope that would mark him as a human was crushed under the tension of his fists.  
"Good afternoon, Mr Moreau."  
Jean just nodded.  
"I see that your arrival here in South California went just as smoothly as your enrolment at the USC and you have already familiarised yourself with your new captain."

The way she stressed familiar made him look up after all and he dared to take a look at the woman who could destroy the lives of so many with the flick of a pen. She had had her black, grey-streaked hair styled chin-length. Despite the heat she wore a suit. Unimpressed, she stared into his eyes.  
"He doesn't know anything", Jean felt compelled to make it clear under her burning gaze and she reached for the documents lying on the bench next to her.  
"Of course not. Who, if not you, knows best that the greatest virtues are loyalty and discretion, Mr Moreau?"

Her words were like mockery for Jean. Property knew no loyalty. Property could not be faithful. But something human in him rebelled against the woman's words. Riko had tortured and had let him be tortured for years. He had neither earned nor bought fidelity with that, he had forced it into him through fear. Yet Jean did not dare to contradict her, even though the horrors of the past were very clear in his thoughts   
and undoubtfully also in his eyes. Jean lowered his gaze when, as he knew, it became too readable.   
Of course her words were also a warning to him and a reminder of the contract Josten had made with Lord Moriyama.

She cleared her throat. "At the instigation of the director of Edgar Allan University, an investigation has been launched into the apparently disgraceful circumstances surrounding the assault and violence inflicted on different players of the Edgar Allan Ravens. Investigations in recent weeks and months have confirmed the initial suspicion of abusive practices in several hundred cases. In most of these cases, you are part of these cases.

Every word she said was like the blade of Riko's knife that made its way under Jean's   
skin without mercy. An investigation in which his name had appeared? For what purpose? There was no doubt that he was property and that property could be used as the owner wanted, as long as he was able to fulfill his purpose.

"In those investigations, videos were also seized which testified massive bodily harm and multiple acts of involuntary sexual intercourse.

Jean flinched as if he had been burned. He stared at the floor of the car with eyes wide with terror as his hands crumpled up the envelope. His heart pounded in his ears as he understood the implications of this. Videos. There were videos of him while they... while they... they had made videos. He leaned forward and a sound of horror left his lips.  
Riko had tortured him. He had let other players into his bed to show him his place and find an answer to the question of whether a sexual trauma was different or worse than one without sexual humiliation. Five times he had done so, surrounded by countless times Riko had broken his bones, pushed him off stairs, slashed and burned his body…

Jean choked off his thoughts. If he continued to enumerate everything Riko and others had done to him, he would throw up in this car. Whether he would survive that, he did not know. Perhaps it would be better if he didn't.

Videos... there were videos.

"How often did it happen?"

Jean didn't know whether to laugh or choke because of this question. The Moriyamas were almighty and had a worldwide criminal network, but to find out how often he had been raped they needed his help. This was pathetic, if it didn't make him feel so disturbed and frightened, because it stirred up memories in him that he would have preferred to leave in the shallows of his memories.

"Is..." Jean had to clear his throat so that his voice was at least audible in the beginning. "Is the number important?"  
"Yes. She didn't explain why and certainly he had no right to the answer, no matter what this question did to him. He closed his eyes briefly to find strength, but the blackness behind his cosed eyelids only made it more impossible for him, so he looked at the floor of the car again.  
"Five times."

How innocent the words sounded. How little they revealed about what had been forced upon him until he had stopped fighting back. Until he had become boring enough. Jean looked at his hands that trembled. He had been grateful to Riko that his late captain had stopped torturing him in this way. Grateful to the person who was responsible for all this.  
That was sick, Jean knew that.

She reached for her mobile phone and typed something. The soft ping of a message made him flinch, as did her eyes, which were directed at him with all their forcefulness.

"Lord Moriyama has deep respect for the families of his business partners entrusted to him, because only with mutual loyalty and trust is it possible to lead the company to undreamt-of greatness and to hold it there.  
Jean did not know what to do with their words, he just nodded.

"This trust goes both ways."  
Trust. What a nice word for mutual dependencies, extortion, organized crime and torture.  
"If a business partner pays his tribute and strengthens the relationship with it in trust based on mutual respect, it would turn out to be intolerable if Lord Moriyama treated this tribute with less respect than it was given to him."

Mrs Suarez fell silent, and Jean had the opportunity to reflect on her words. Not that it helped him much, because he was neither a business partner nor was he human enough to be part of the illegal business. Even if he had been, he would not have wanted it. The involvement of his family in this kind of business had brought him nothing, only humiliation and torture, the theft of his adolescence and innocence.

"Lord Moriyama is not willing to let it go unnoticed that the rapes brought shame on the eldest son of his valued business partner and that, by his own blood, shame was brought upon the honorable Moriyama family.  
Jean's head jerked up so abruptly that he thought he had dislocated a neck vertebra. Mrs Suarez neutrally examined him as if she was talking about the weather.

"The Moreaus have been respected allies since Marseilles. You, Mr Moreau, were handed over to the second branch as a gesture of trust to help settle an imbalance. As an investment in a common future. The actions and orders of the late captain have diminished that investment and this is an unacceptable state of affairs that Lord Moriyama intends to revise. She reached behind her, and at the first moment Jean expected her to pull a gun. Accordingly pointlessly, he pulled up his arms and tried to protect himself from the coming death when he realized after a few moments that no bullet would follow.

Mrs Suarez was holding a bowl in her hand, made of black porcelain, which was interspersed with golden streaks of lacquer, seemingly arranged without any structure. It contained two envelopes.  
She held it between them and Jean understood that he was supposed to accept it. The fact that it took him three attempts to do so, because his fingers were shaking so much, did not in the least disturb her.

"Your skills, Mr. Moreau, are precious and profitable, especially looking ahead to the coming years. They are a valuable investment for Lord Moriyama and he would like to express his deep regret about his brother's actions. This vase and its contents are a sign of his sorrow for the boy's actions".

She pointed to the black envelope that lay on top and with trembling fingers Jean picked it up, held it in front of him, waiting for further orders.  
"Open it."  
Jean nodded and did as he was told. Trembling, he balanced the porecelain on his clenched knees. Clumsy, he took out the document it contained and watched in horror as a card fell to the car floor. It took him two attempts to pick it up and only then did he take a look at the contents of the document, the meaning of which was not clear to him.

He had never had a problem with numbers, so it was easy for him to apply his skills to his main subject. This one and its meaning, however, did not become clear to him, even after repeated glances. Jean felt his heart beating in an unsteady rhythm when he found himself unable to follow her instructions.  
Jean swallowed. "I don't understand the meaning," he whispered.  
"This is the data for your bank account," she gave the document a meaning and Jean stared at the words printed on his documents.

His eyes flitted over the name of the bank as well as the account details and he frowned as he realized that his name was on the card and the number of this account was apparently identical to the number on the card. Confused, Jean frowned, but did not dare to say aloud the question he was asking. For example, why his name was registered as owner.

"This account was registered for you and you have sole access to the amount that was being transferred to this account. It is not subject to the Moriyama family's percentage share of your income and is therefore entirely at your disposal. Furthermore, Lord Moriyama wishes to inform you that the contract made with Mr Josten regarding the percentage share is no longer valid for you as of this moment. You will pay a percentage of sixty percent of the coming income from your profession as a professional player. Your sports scholarship remains unaffected.

Jean did not really understand what she was saying, but he did not find the courage to ask. He also did not find the courage to nod, but accepted what she told him without reacting. It was as if his thoughts did not want to understand what he had just been given. As a sign of...regret? Because shame had been brought upon him and therefore upon his family who had sold him?

Something that felt horribly like the anger he had held when he first came to Evermore was stirring in him. He wanted none of this here. He wanted none of this to ever happen. Jean pressed his lips together. They gave him money to cure him? Cure him of what? The broken shattered pile of glass that Riko had made of him over the years?

For the first time in a long time, Jean wanted to hit someone again. The woman, the men outside of this car, even the Lord and the Master. He wanted to tear them all apart for what they had done to him, and yet he couldn't even muster up the strength to nod, so the rage remained within him, smouldering in the remnants of his being, scratching at the prison of his forced self-control. But in the end it was unmistakable clear to him that he had to react respectfully.

"I would like to thank the Moriyama family for their kindness," he pressed out in years of indoctrination what he had never felt. Not since they had dragged him here. Mrs Suarez took note of this, but nothing more. As if the conversation between the two of them had not taken place, she turned to her cell phone. She looked up briefly.  
"You may leave, Mr Moreau."

The car door opened and let in sunlight, piercing and blinding. Jean blinked and squinting his eyes together at the first moment before he painstakingly peeled himself out of the car, his body trembling with tension. Of course... as soon as he raised his eyes, he found himself facing Knox, who was apparently waiting for his return with a sorrowful expression on his face. The two guards returned to the cars in silence and Jean heard more than he saw them driving off, leaving him alone with his captain, who now rushed to him as if he wanted to hit him. Jean flinched back, the bowl and documents pressed against his chest and brought distance between them as quickly as he could.

"Don't", it took away from him, even though he had no right to this word. It had never earned him anything. But now it did, because Knox stopped. On the spot, as if this one word was important. Hesitantly he paused.

"Jean?"

It was the plea for an explanation Jean could not provide. Mutely, he ignored his captain and watched unmoved as the two cars took off and drove away. When they were out of sight, Jean involuntarily wondered whether the whole thing had really happened. He gritted his teeth. Actually, he should be happy. They had not taken him with them. Instead, Mrs Suarez had told him how valuable he was to the family. Because of or in spite of what had happened to him. They had reduced their share and set up a second account for him with an amount on it that he did not yet know. They paid him for being raped.

What was in the second envelope he still did not know.

Actually he should be relieved.

"Tell me, Knox..." he began, fearing the cold in his own voice. "...in your Art District, is there any answer to how much a life is worth?" Scornfully, he looked down at his captain, who glanced at him with an unusually pale face and big eyes.

~~**~~

What?

Worried Jeremy blinked. He had spent the last endless long minutes worried about Jean and himself, nervously holding on to his cell phone in his pocket.  
Again and again he had calculated his chances to call the campus security in time to get Jean out of the clutches of these obviously criminal people. In the end, he didn't dare to do what he had set out to do and stepped from one foot to the other, restless and anxious.

How could he have escaped if these people were blackmailing him with Jean's well-being?

And now the taller boy stood in front of him and stared at him with such disdain that Jeremy shuddered involuntarily. Jeremy suspected...no, he knew that it was not linked to him, but that made it only slightly better. With did they have to blackmail Jean that he had voluntarily followed into their car? What did they do to provoke such scorn?

Jeremy reached out his hand in Jean's direction. The gray eyes turned abruptly to the movement and Jeremy's hand froze in its movement. Only slowly Jeremy finally dropped it.  
"What happened?" Jeremy asked as calmly as he could. The agitation crossed his plans and Jean snorted derisively. He shook his head, but said nothing, instead turning his face towards the sky.  
"Today is the day of bank accounts, it seems," came biting words out of Jean's mouth that Jeremy had never heard before. "Or the day of useless money."  
Jeremy could not make sense of that answer. "Jean, what have they done?" he asked with his heart beating anxiously.

For agonizingly long moments Jeremy received no answer, then Jean snorted. His attention returned to Jeremy and he was pierced with the intensity of Jean's stare. Jean's eyes would be pretty if they didn't scare him so much, Jeremy noted.  
"They did nothing. They wanted to talk."  
Jeremy pursed his lips. "You don't just talk when you're blackmailing people at the same time."  
For a brief moment, Jean contemplated his words, then he lowered his eyes. "It's better not to bother," he murmured, apparently expecting that he would be punished for it. Nothing could be further from Jeremy's mind, though he could easily imagine shaking Jean right now until he realized that the Trojans didn't work that way. They cared about each other. They cared for each other. They were not part of criminal machinations. He didn't accuse Jean of that, but obviously the men who had just been here did not belong to their world.

"I can't do that. You belong to my team, Jean," Jeremy quietly verbalized his concern.  
"This is not a team matter."  
"It is if they come onto campus and grab you in front of our apartment building and blackmail me with your welfare, it is."

Jeremy's direct words dissolved Jean's emerging contradiction into nothing. It was definetly not in Jeremy's interest that Jean lowered his eyes and looked at the grass again, not at all.  
"It is not good to deal with them," Jean told him. "It's a family matter that's been settled."  
"So settled that they blackmail me with your health, Jean?" Jeremy repeated doubtfully. Jean flinched at his words and Jeremy almost felt guilty. He looked closely at the porcelain vase Jean was holding in his hands and frowned.

"They will not come back," Jean finally insisted on his initial words, of which Jeremy did not believe a single syllable. For that, the crease on his forehead was too steep, his mouth too tense. "Is this... an insurmountable problem," he finally asked and Jeremy frowned.  
"What do you mean?"  
"Will it lead to the cancellation of the contract with the Trojans?"

Jeremy was so shocked by Jean's words that he abruptly grabbed his arm and squeezed it. An in retrospect wrong and partly stupid gesture, which was answered with nothing but fear and kept Jeremy busy to catch the vase falling out of Jean's hands. He groaned as his back protested against the abrupt change in position, but his reflexes were still there and they were good.  
Jean's reflexes, too, it seemed, who had raised one hand defensively but hesitantly, as if he wanted to fend off a blow.

Just like the first day.

Jeremy swallowed. Of course. The things Riko did to Jean were quite visible, even without Kevin's warning. Jean was obviously frightend to be in the company of another boy. And Jeremy himself? Scared the boy with his words and gestures. Wonderful.  
With an apologetic smile, Jeremy freed himself from the trapped forearm and bent down again, this time after the fallen envelopes. Jean made no effort to take it all back, so Jeremy carried the burden for him. It was the least he could do.  
"No, it won't."  
Doubtfully, Jean frowned. "You judge prematurely."  
Jeremy raised his eyebrows questioningly. "What?"

Jean seemed to be only now becoming aware of what he had just said and he swallowed visibly. "Excuse me. I didn't mean to be rude."  
Jeremy waved it off with one hand. "You're not. Why am I jumping to conclusions?"  
"They are not to be trifled with."  
That made Jeremy snort. "No shit Sherlock. Men and women who walk around in black suits at sunny 35 degrees and drive black, mirrored cars are not to be joked with? We live happily here, but not behind the moon, Jean."

The ex-Raven frowned. "What is a Sherlock?" he actually asked and Jeremy blinked.  
"What?", echoed Jeremy with little understanding before he came to his senses. If Jean really didn't like watching films, how would he know Sherlock?  
"This is a private detective from London who solves rather bizarre cases. Actually a character in a novel, but one that has been made into movies and shows several times."

Jean seemed to think about this and apparently decided not to go into it. "What do you know about the Moriyamas," he asked instead and Jeremy shrugged.  
"Kengo Moriyama founded our wonderful sport together with Kayleigh Day."  
Jeremy fell silent and after a few seconds Jean apparently realized that there was nothing more to come. The line on his forehead became deeper than he had ever seen and Jeremy felt that the other boy had a lot on his mind... much less kind about Jeremy's knowledge of the sport they both played.  
"Kengo Moriyama belongs to a family clan that is better kept away from. They are ruthless when it comes to asserting their business interests."

Just in time before his brain could blurt things out that he would regret, Jeremy closed his mouth. If they're all like Riko, I don't want to meet anyone, was on the tip of his tongue. He could imagine that Jean would not appreciate this kind of answer at all. He also guessed why.  
Jeremy lifted the vase and nodded in their direction. "This doesn't look like keeping it away."  
"It's a symbolic gift."  
"For what?"  
Jean shrugged. "I don't know."  
"And the envelopes."  
"Apparently money. I don't know that either."  
"Do they lend you money? Is that why you depend on them?"

Jeremy didn't know what was so amusing about his words, but apparently Jean was so amused that he actually curled his lips into a smile. Short and cool, but it was there.  
"No, they do not. They never have and they never will."

Jeremy had questions burning on his tongue that he did not dare to ask, so he remained silent and measured the pale face. His attention was caught on the beanie Jean was wearing and he felt anger inside. At Riko. At Evermore and the men who had been here. For his country that made it possible for such assholes to beat and threaten someone and get away with it.

"Coach Rhemann has to know about this," he noted cautiously and the boy next to him flinched as if he had burned him. Again, as if it was repugnant to him, as if it was something terrible that their coach, whom they all trusted blindly, was told about it.  
"It's better to stay away from them," Jean repeated, as if that would explain everything, and Jeremy sighed. Those had been Kevin's words, too, and the repetition of that made it all the more insistent to Jeremy that something was happening here that none of them had known before.

Slowly Jeremy nodded and sighed deeply. Silence came between them and for the first time he couldn't really fill with life because he had too much on his mind, which he hadn't thought about at all and for which he had no solutions yet. This challenged and annoyed him at the same time.  
In the end, Jeremy shrugged his shoulders and turned his attention to Jean, who scrutinized him with worry in his eyes. Jeremy tried to smile and actually succeededin doing so.

"How about this: I bring these things to the room, we pay Coach Rhemann a visit and you tell him what you have to tell him about this. Then we'll drive into town and have a look around the Art District?"  
Jean questioned his words and it took some time before he found the courage to put his doubts into words. "Will he not want this envelope?" he asked hesitantly and Jeremy raised his eyebrows.  
"Your envelope, your money, your bank account, Jean Moreau," Jeremy replied with playful severity, recalling their previous discussion. Jean took note of this silently, but Jeremy could already see the uncertainty lurking behind it.

"I can help you with that if you want me to," he offered and actually got a nod.

~~**~~

Jean stood in front of her bathroom mirror and blinked in disbelief.

In the soft light of the setting sun, supported by the lamp that was enthroned above him, he had an unimpeded view of his face, or rather of the lasting blush on his forehead, his cheeks and above all on his nose. Redness that really hurt on closer touching, while his skin stretched over his bones. He gently touched the red areas with his index finger and watched in amazement as they turned white under pressure before returning to their redness.

The passing day and the food Knox had cooked for both of them tonight took their toll and he felt an urgent need to go down to the basement and sleep right now. But he still had to wait until Knox had fallen asleep before he could steal away and finally close his eyes.

Jean let his thoughts drift back. Coach Rhemann had not reacted as he had expected. Not at all. Thoughtfully, the man had listened to what Jean had told him almost too softly to be heard. He had nodded and then thanked Jean for being so honest with him and sharing this meeting with him. It was at the top of the list of things that had surprised Jean during the week he was here. The Master had never thanked him, on the contrary. Jean had to thank the Master for being disciplined by him again and again. For every single blow he had had to thank him.

How Jean had to react to the gratitude of his coach was not clear to him until now, and it had certainly not been when he had stared at Rhemann dumb as a fish and just as stupid. Before he could bow out of sheer helplessness, Rhemann had chased Knox and him out of his office. His captain had lost no time in responding to this and had made good on his threat to drag him to the neighborhood, which was brimming with art on every street corner and had overwhelmed Jean in all its visual overload.

What, if not this, perfectly symbolized his current life. The shadow of the Moriyamas was forever on him, they would always breathe down his neck and control his life. He would have to honor the contract Josten had made for himself, Kevin and him to save them all. His amended contract, which was based on the fact that his family had been disgraced by Riko's behavior.

Disgrace. Yes, Riko had him raped to see what kind of trauma it would cause in Jean. But that hadn't been the only thing he had done to him and for that the Moriyamas didn't care. It was only the intimate violence of unwanted sexual intercourse that counted, not everything else that had been done to him over the years. Starting with the deprivation of freedom when they took him to Evermore against his will. When they locked him up in the basement without sunlight. None of this the family regretted, only that Riko had let him be fucked five times.

And against all this memory of violence and humiliation stood the intact, beautiful world of the USC Trojans, who knew nothing of what Jean's life had been. Jean felt like one of the cacophonous works of art he had seen today. A dark something that caused discomfort, exposed and presented to a world full of sunshine and warmth, so that everyone could take a look at this darkness and be happy not to be part of it.

One month and three weeks to go. The envelopes and the vase did not change that, nor did the behavior of his coach or captain. On the contrary. Jean wouldn't be surprised if this didn't strengthen his resolve in the end.

But first of all he had quite different things that demanded his attention.

He had a sunburn. A _sunburn_. Jean couldn't remember the last time he had had one, and the feeling, unpleasant as it was, was wonderful compared to his other pains of the last few years, because it meant he had been out in the sun. For hours.

Against his will, he had let himself be captured by this part of the city and his art and had let Knox's words wash over him like the background noise of the streets. Away from the memories of his conversation with the lawyer. He had even let himself be talked into photographing the colorful painting of rainbow wings on a house wall for Renee and sending it to her.

Much to her delight.

Jean blinked when he noticed that the beginnings of a smile threatened to pull his lips up at the thought of her. He quickly turned away and left the bathroom almost in a hurry, finding himself eye to eye with Knox, who held up a tube of unidentifiable cream with one of his typical smiles.

"Here, this is an pain-relieving moisturizer that will make your sunburn more bearable," Knox explained the existence of that very tube, and again Jean couldn't help but wonder how much different things could be from Evermore. Never, at no time, had Riko given him painkillers. In all those years he had never once tried to relieve anything.

That it suited Knox was undisputed. That Knox was also willing to do good for him was something Jean understood only slowly and even more reluctantly.

How absurd it seemed to him that there was relief for a trivial sunburn.  
"Thank you," Jean muttered and glanced at the vase that stood on the bedside table by his bed. He didn't want it there and would banish it tomorrow - in an act of new rebellion - to the small living room. Preferably right next to Days Puzzle, because where did it belong better than with the number two, the golden boy who couldn't bear his broken hand and had fled.

Jean put some of the cream on his fingers and rubbed it on his warm skin before returning the tube to Knox, who proudly looked at him on his tanned face.

"I'll put it in the bathroom with your clothes. After three days the worst should be over. It works best if you apply it in the morning and evening."

Jean stared in silence at Knox as he put his words into action. He had to remind himself by force that this boy was his captain. And that Jean had been punished again and again for Knox's superiority.

This was harder than he thought.

~~~~~~~~~~~

_To be continued._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like it? Didn't you? Tell me ;)


	10. The Ambush

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few words on the last part, or rather to the way of thinking when it comes to the Ichirou Moriyama. In the third book of the AftG trilogy, I think Nora briefly mentioned that the new clan leader Ichirou has a wife and child and that his reputation is very important to him. Combined with the investigation that took place in Evermore, it is his desire to wipe the slate clean in this regard. I wrote him to have an illegal but clean business (of human trafficking, oppression, coercion, extortion, deprivation of liberty, murder, assault, fraud, corruption.... the whole range). His no-go is rape, which easily can diminish the performance of his investments and tarnish the honour of his business partners. Therefore, he has decided to set up some kind of compensation for the sexual violence that has happend to Jean. It is obvious, that this in itself is inhumane and contemptuously.
> 
> Enough rambling. Enjoy the new part! I wish you all Merry Christmas and wonderful days with your loved ones. Stay safe, stay healthy, wear a mask. ;)

Jeremy was jolted abruptely out of his dreams of men in black suits chasing him around the campus. He couldn't say exactly what it was that pulled him from his nightmares and it was his instinct that made him wake up from his confused dreams. He looked around wildly and threw himself to the side - out of the bed onto the hard floor. Jeremy groaned as pain exploded along his side.  
He grumbled unwillingly as his sleep-tired mind realised what he was actually doing here.

Somebody was knocking on then door, though knocking wasn't really the proper word for the sound of a fist thundering against the thin wood.  
"Knox, I know you're in there! Come on, open your damn door!" The very same words were punctuated by a Spanish-accented, gruff curse that could only have come from one person on this entire planet.

Alvarez. Sara Alvarez, backliner and biggest, early-bird bitch he'd ever met and befriended. Yes, she and Laila were due to arrive today and yes, Jeremy still remembered that. No, he didn't remember that their arrival time had been so fucking early!

A glance at Jean's bed told him that the other boy was already awake and had not been woken by this actions. Jeremy thanked God for that, not wanting to imagine what would have happened if the already withdrawn ex-Raven had been kicked out of his bed by Jeremy‘s noise.  
Nevertheless, Jeremy had to open the door as soon as possible and thus prevent it from being literally kicked in. Or broken in, which was more likely.

Grumbling, he bolted upright and stumbled towards the hallway, with a quick apologetic smile to Jean, who was sitting in the kitchen counter with a glass of water, his distress over the noise written all too clearly on his face. The boy had pulled the hood of his sweater so low on his face that even the tattoo on his cheek was not visible. Seeking help, the grey eyes rested on Jeremy, who, as he now realized, was standing in the middle of the room with his boxers low on his hips and his hair in an out-of-bed style from hell.

"Sorry!" he muttered, stumbling on.  
"Fuck you, Alvarez, I'm gonna kill you!" he yelled back as he yanked the door open. Alvarez and Laila were standing in front of it and they were grinning at him like it was noon and not early morning.  
The two of them pushed their way into the apartment and Jeremy remembered what else he had wanted to prepare Jean for. For what and for whom. The events of the last day had completely erased the thoughts about of that and now...well...  
He followed the girls into his apartment.

"Good morning, sunshine, breakfast is here!" Alvarez roared, pressing what felt like a thousand kisses to his cheeks before ruffling his already chaotic hair and pushing past him. Her dark brown hair was tied up in a braid that whipped behind her as Jeremy opened his mouth helplessly. To give her or Jean a heads-up, he didn't know, but it didn't matter in the next moment when Laila hugged him far less enthusiastically but no less lovingly, letting him know what she thought of her girlfriend's mugging with an equally morning-weary roll of her eyes. She, like him, was not a morning person.

Not at all.

But that wasn't important now, he decided, as he broke away from her with apologetic haste and hurried after Alvarez into the kitchen, where his vice captain was standing with a raised eyebrow.  
"You have a _gentleman-calling_ and no sock at the door," it came accusingly from her and Jeremy felt an unstoppable blush creep up his neck and cheeks. Jean was a lot of things, but not a male visitor, although after a moment's thought he realised how it must seem to have a stranger suddenly sitting in his kitchen counter while he looked like he came straight out of bed.

Because he fucking came straight out of bed!

But not from _that_ particular bed.

Laila stepped behind him into the kitchen. At least she had mercy to not stare as obviously gawking as her girlfriend. With a smile and a wave, she greeted his roommate. Jean raised an eyebrow and Jeremy had the impression that the other boy had moved a little towards the wall.  
"Aren't you going to introduce us?" Alvarez growled, handing him the bag of breakfast stuff they had brought. Jeremy accepted it with a sigh, no longer postponing the inevitable.  
"Jean, this is Alvarez and Laila. Al, Laila, this is Jean."  
"Uuuh… is it sexy Frenchmen-time, Captain? I think your taste in men has always been better than your other senses! Hey Mr Tall, Dark and Handsome." Alvarez grinned insinuatingly and held out her hand to Jean, who pointedly ignored her in favour of looking at Jeremy, who groaned inwardly. Could the ground please open up and swallow him whole? That would be really fantastic.

Preferably right now.

He put the bag on the sideboard and emptied it. He somewhat granted Alvarez the awkward moment of silence that made her uneasy for a split second as she continued to be ignored by Jean.  
"Jean, by the way, is not a fling, but my new roommate, our new team member and your new backlining partner, Alvarez. You already know each other, as you have run into each other a time or two at the games against the Ravens. Oh yeah, and I remember... he's better than you, you twit," he delivered the death blow, turning with a broad smile to all three whose undivided attention he had.

For the duration of ten seconds there was a stunned silence, then Alvarez' light brown eyes widened almost comically. Her gaze flew wildly back and forth between him and Jean.  
"What?! Never! Moreau? Like Jean Moreau? As in number three of the perfect court? You're not serious, Captain! Why am I only learning about this now? Why didn't you tell me before? You could have said something! Write! A! Message! Smoke signals, damn it, anything! A Raven! With us! And the best backliner of our league, of all people! No shit! Oh dios mio, that I may live to see this!" Accusations upon accusations poured over him and Jeremy sighed. He swiped at the accusingly raised index finger and growled.

"Because it was a last-minute transfer that we are not going to officially announce until the start of the new season. Now turn your volume down, I don't fancy having to scrape my eardrums from the counter in the early morning. Thank you very much" When she took a breath to contradict him, it was his turn to raise his finger.

She lashed out at it and Jeremy scowled. But Alvarez was already not interested as she turned abruptly to Jean and stared at him with her hands on her hips. As silent as the ex-Raven had been so far, his facial expressions now betrayed him. He was tense and had clenched his hands into fists on his thighs, seemingly waiting for something that would inevitably come. Jeremy also already suspected what it might be and he choose to intervene.

Alvarez noticed it, too. Snorting, she straightened up. "This is going to take a long time and a lot of ice cream for me to forgive you, Cap, just so you know." Grumbling, she settled down next to Jean on one of the chairs at the table and propped her chin on top of the heel of her hand. Intently she stared at the backliner who had always been a role model for her. To call her a fangirl would be to declare war on her, so Jeremy only allowed himself to do so behind closed doors and only in his mind.

Here and now, however, it was all too apparent and he snorted.

"Jean, would you like coffee?" asked Jeremy trying to get the tense boy's attention. For a moment Jean left Alvarez out of his sight and nodded silently. Jeremy smiled and turned questioningly to Laila. She too nodded, too, and settled down opposite her girlfriend at the other side of the table.  
"Laila, hi," she was significantly quieter and more unobtrusive than her counterpart. That was why she, unlike Alvarez, received a nod from Jean. Jeremy immediately poured a spoonful of coffee next to the filter in delight and rolled his eyes enthusiastically at himself.

"So, you French prodigy of a backliner. Tell me, what brings you here all of a sudden and away from your 'number one we always win' team?"  
Jeremy's hearing senses, already imprinted for days on Jean's sounds, picked up very clearly the small sound of surprised wonder that left the boy's lips.  
"I changed teams," Jean said harshly, clearing his throat. Pouring the water much too loudly into the jug, Jeremy waited to see if Jean would elaborate on his answer, but nothing came. Alvarez grinned slyly.  
"Have you finally realised that we are the better team to play with?" She winked, and Jean snorted so loudly that Jeremy turned around in surprise.

"Hardly. You lost to the Foxes," Jean replied with so much doubt in his voice and more emotion than Jeremy had seen or heard in him over the last week. Jean seemed in his element and like the few times before, it seemed that the real boy was breaking through his icy façade. The boy, who he usually knew how to hide so well.  
"There were nine of them, including us. It was a fair match."  
Jean rolled his eyes. "That was a stupid decision."  
Alvarez snorted. "It's called sportsmanship."  
Jean raised an eyebrow, making it clear exactly what he thought. "Exy is a competition. The team as such must be one, but should not fraternize with the opponents."  
"Besides, our captain here is a big fanboy of Kevin Day. He couldn't just let the opportunity pass and..."

That was as far as she got when Jeremy covered her mouth and smiled sweetly with red cheeks. "How about you shut your damn mouth?" he asked, winking at Laila, who could only shake her head at Al's behaviour.  
"Fanboy?" echoed Jean, of all people, and Jeremy groaned in anguish.  
"Oh no, now you've triggered her," he complained whining as he withdrew his hand hissing as Alvarez bit into the flesh.  
"So. Our smug captain here..." began Alvarez dramatically, trying to slap Jeremy onto the forehead. He caught her hand and bit her index finger in revenge. "...our little man-eater here turned into a red-faced pile of fanboy slime when your former teammate approached him after one of our games. And do you know what he did?"

Jean shook his head and Jeremy got the impression that Jean didn't want to know either. Alvarez blithely overlooked it.  
"Day complimented his way of playing and our precious captain didn't get his act together for weeks. Disgusting, this fanboyism, I tell you. And since then the two have been... platonically and totally in love with each other."  
Alvarez shook herself in disgust and Jeremy snorted. "That's not true at all."  
"That's why you weren't worried like shit when he had his skiing accident."  
"Bullshit."  
"That's why you weren't happy as a fuck when Kev was traded to the Foxes and tried to get his mobile number."  
"Not true at all, that was a coincidence."  
"That's why..."  
"It wasn't a skiing accident," Jean's low and raspy voice cut through their dispute and silenced them all.  
"It wasn't?" Laila finally echoed and after a moment of thoughtful silence Jean shook his head.  
"Riko did it. He smashed his hand in a fit of rage."

Jeremy blinked, unable to comprehend the honest and terrible words that had just left the backliner's lips. Alvarez and Laila stared at him and gone was the playful joking.  
"He did _what_?" Laila inquired quietly, but clearly shocked and Jean shrugged.  
"Why didn't Kevin ever say that?" asked Jeremy.  
"Because he's afraid of Riko and Evermore."  
"But now Riko's dead."  
"It doesn't matter now. He's with the Foxes and he won the title last year. He changed his playing hand and he's going to be part of the national team because that's the only thing he ever wants."

Jeremy had only seen Jean once as scornful as he was now: when he had laughed at him shortly before Jeremy had fled their shared apartment. Involuntarily Jeremy wondered whether the disdain referred to what Riko had done or to Kevin himself. He wasn't sure about that.  
"You are still friends, aren't you?" he asked cautiously and Jean raised his eyebrows silently. He said nothing in response, but Jeremy felt the no almost physically.

"Coffee it is, then," Laila steered the subject back into a more safer ground and Jeremy straightened up.  
"Coffee, yep. And what did you bring for breakfast?"  
Alvarez gestured carelessly behind her. "Just sweet stuff, as we know what you like, dear captain! We didn't have Mr. Still Tall, Dark and Handsome here on our radar, though. So, backliner number two at the Trojans... what are you having for breakfast?"

That Jean had in no way been prepared for his nicknames was obvious, because it was clearly written on his face for exactly three seconds, and it only gradually disappeared completely behind the usual expressionlessness. "Scrambled eggs and toast," he finally pressed out and Jeremy was already getting one of the pans from the cupboard.  
"In the making," He grinned to himself and set the breakfast table while Alvarez engaged Jean in a discussion about tactics, which the ex-Raven actually accepted animatedly. Even if that meant meticulously picking apart the words of his fellow backliner and ruthlessly arguing against her.

The fact that his voice was gaining more and more a soft, French dialect as he talked became apparent to Jeremy. This made his direct, sometimes even cruel assessments of achievements and failures not quite as bad, Jeremy thought. Alvarez and Laila probably did, too, who joined in the lively discussion, while Jeremy simply kept quiet for a while and enjoyed how Jean opened up to the two girls and their topic.

~~**~~

_Fiona Chandler_

Jean's eyes wandered over the name of the Trojans' team doctor again and again as he waited with Knox for her to finish her phone call and examine him for physical fitness.  
He fervently hoped Knox wouldn't come in, too, just as he hoped he could convince the doctor to let him play despite the injuries and scars. With his luck and the Trojans' attitude to any form of violence, his chances of being unlucky weren't even that slim.

Nervously, Jean kneaded his fingers. He would have to undress in front of her and she would surely ask questions about his scars. The fact that the Foxes' nurse had seen him almost naked had been bad enough. At the time, though, he hadn't been conscious enough to be really nervous or anxious about it. This time was different.

He‘d think his memories could distinguish between Riko, the Ravens who had forced themselves on him and other people apart from Evermore, but the truth couldn’t be farther away from it. He was afraid that once again he would have no choice and would have to endure it. Again, because his captain deWhatmanded it of him.

That was precisely why the words of the pushy backliner at breakfast had caught him by surprise. His initial suspicion that the gay captain of the Trojans had only brought him to his apartment to fuck him without delay or complications had flared up again all at once, leaving him with a jittery bundle of nerves. It had only gotten a little bit better when the half-naked boy had shown how embarrassed he had been by his own appearance and when they had broached an innocent topic.

Jean had relaxed so much that he had just blurted out the bitter truth about Day's broken bones. The need to counter this unnecessary PR joke of the skiing accident with the truth had been so strong that Jean had come up with it faster than he had been able to think about it. It was half of the truth, because Riko had not only broken Day's bones that day. He had also gone wild on him and Jean still bore the scars of that on his back.

Visible to the doctor and also to Knox, should he be also there.

The door opened and Jean flinched as a woman stepped out who was exactly as Knox had described her. Smaller than him, tomboyish, with long black braids that reached her backside. Her smile was warm and friendly, like the weather, like everything and everyone here.

"Mr Moreau?" The formality in her voice surprised him and he swallowed hard. Silently, he nodded and rose. He was a head and a half taller than her, but that didn't have to mean anything. Cruelty knew no such thing as physical boundaries.  
"Would you please come in? The examination won't take long and is just a routine procedure that all USC players have to go through."

He followed her into her tidy, bright office, which would have been cosy under any other circumstances. It had a window, like every room here in California, with a lavish amount of light and warm air entering the room. There were medical books on the shelves and on her meticulously ordered desk she had a file with his name on it. The rest of the files were apparently carefully tucked away in her locked metal cabinet.

With a smile, she settled down in her brown leather chair and motioned him to take a seat in front of the desk. Cautiously, Jean lowered himself onto the surprisingly comfortable chair.  
"First of all, a warm welcome to USC from me too, Mr Moreau. I hope you've had a chance to settle in and find your way around our beautiful but winding campus over the past week?

He hadn't, although Knox had shown him around. They were due to start next week and Jean had still no idea how to get to his classrooms. Let alone he had any idea how to tell Knox that he was unable to take even one step outside the door without another person. His visits in the basement were born out of necessity because he needed to sleep. Otherwise...

Jean remembered that he was expected to answer and nodded. "Thank you." Lying was easier for him every time and it saved him from worrying looks and unnecessary enquiries. Riko would not have let him get away with it so easily, let alone the Master himself.

"Very well. But I'm also sure that Mr Knox will be happy to lend you a hand to make sure you reach your classes in time in the first few weeks."  
Jean nodded again, even though he dreaded the mere thought of Knox touching him. The other boy had done that several times and every single time he had scared the hell out of Jean with it. Touching was always meant to cause him pain.  
Except for Renee's touches. And Abby's. They were an exception and they too hurt him in all their special, loving ways.

"Did you bring any documents?"

Jean shook his head. He had asked the Foxes' nurse not to give him a file and to destroy everything she had noted down about him. Abby had understood and had complied with his request. Evermore would not be able to provide USC with any files because the resident doctor had never laid eyes on him. He had looked away, like everyone else.

But this woman here would not do that and Jean was already dreading the moment she saw his scars.

"Okay, no problem at all. Then we will have to work through the whole medical history questionnaire. I'd like you to give me as many detailed answers as possible to each of the questions."  
Jean nodded and let the doctor's questions wash over him. Some of them he could answer, others he could not. Others he did not want to answer and faltered accordingly. Had he had unprotected sexual intercourse? No. They had used condoms every time they raped him. Were there any hereditary diseases in his family? He didn't know and had no family left to ask. Had he had broken bones in the last few years? Yes. How many? Jean had to recount it and the answer made the doctor pause in her note taking. Where? When he began to list them all, she lowered her pen and looked thoughtfully into his eyes.

After a short pause she resumed with her writing and eventually came to the end of the questionnaire. With a resolute movement, she pushed the stack together and pointed to the couch that stood in the open neighbouring room.

"If you would please strip down to your underwear, I'll join you in a moment."

There it was, the sentence that scared Jean so much. Undressing was a problem. To undress in front of strangers, an impossibility. Everything in him refused, every fibre of his body screamed at him that he couldn't because he knew what came after. What had always come when he had had to undress or had been undressed.  
His hands were shaking so badly he couldn't hide them in time from her attentive gaze as he made this movement.

"Mr Moreau." Her voice was too conciliatory not to scratch the insides of his eardrums. She sounded like the nurse when she had tried to coax him into eating a spoonful of soup. She sounded like Renee when she had tried to persuade him to stay. She sounded too indulgent not to break down his walls of rejection and distance.

He didn't need this understanding, on the contrary. Jean cursed it with everything he had ...which was not very much at the moment, Jean had to admit to himself. The thought of Renee and Abby made him realise again that he had to comply in order not to endanger them. If he didn't strip, the doctor wouldn't release him for practice and games. If he didn't play until he died and just sat on the bench, the Moriyamas would probably hurt them to make him do it.

"I'll be fine," he muttered, rising abruptly. He had to do it for Renee. For the nurse. Jean swallowed. Before he could change his mind, he stepped hastily into the examination room and pulled his shirt over his head. His trousers followed, as did his sneakers and socks. Shivering, he wrapped his arms around himself and lowered his gaze to the floor as he heard the doctor rise as well.

Renee...she deserved it after all she had done for him. She deserved him to be strong for her because Ravens only ever came in pairs. He had to take care of her the way he had taken care of Josten when he had spent the winter holidays in the nest. Despite all his foolishness, despite all his unnecessary resistance.

Doctor Chandler paused in the doorway for a moment before she came to him and stepped into his limited field of vision. Just out of his reach, just far enough for her to observe him, him and his scars.  
"Mr Moreau, we don't have to do this. We can always postpone the examination, if you wish."

If he wished? Why did it suddenly matter so much what he wished? Especially since he didn't even know what he wished. He simply didn't know. For years he had not been allowed to have his own wishes and now he was constantly being asked for his opinion. An opinion he didn't have. And how could he after all that was beaten into him?  
Jean shook his head silently and looked up, more out of an act of desperation than anything else.

He thought he knew what he would see in her eyes. Pity, regret, shock. But he was wrong...again. Her black eyes rested seriously on him, but contained none of the expected emotions. He saw understanding and acceptance, professional distance from him and the battlefield that was his body. He preferred that a thousand times more than anything else and so, irrationally, he didn't feel quite so naked.

With professional detachment, she looked at his scars. The fingers with which she touched and examined his scars and their texture did not feel like his personal hell. He was uncomfortable, yes, but he was able to get through it. At least as long as he could see her and predict her movements.  
With all due care, she removed the plasters from his skin and took a critical look at the healing wounds, especially the one on his hip where Riko had traced his bone with a knife. Again and again and again, only to lever under the bone with that very knife to see how far it could be lifted.

It was one of the last wounds Riko had inflicted on him and probably the one that had been the most dangerous. At least that's what the nurse had told him, and as gently as she could, she had tended to the stitched wound that had made it impossible for him to stand and walk alone for the first week and a half. He had strained it again while running and it was now correspondingly angry and irritated, causing the doctor to frown.

"May I assume that these scars and wounds are from your time in Evermore?" she asked the first specific question and Jean nodded. What could he possibly deny that she saw on his body?  
Silently she examined the remaining scars and gently felt the destroyed and partially knotted tissue. Jean meanwhile stared at the sun shining through the frosted glass into the room. What would inevitably follow drew closer and closer and when it was finally there, it took his breath away.

Doctor Chandler straightened up and by her knowing expression he could already see that she would now turn her attention to his back. There, where he would not see her. Inevitably Jean stiffened and took the opportunity to wrap his arms around the middle of his body.

"I would like to take a look at your back now. I have a mirror, back there in the corner, if you'd like. You could watch me while I do it."  
Jean wondered where she got the sensitivity to read his mind without him ever uttering a syllable of fear. Or was he so obvious that his every thought was written on his face?

He followed her pointing finger and took a look in the mirror, which reflected his unadorned reflection back at him.  
From this angle, the writing on the inside of his left thigh, which had been carved there again and again, was not visible. He had hopes that the doctor also overlooked it. Quite unlike all the other scars, which were more obvious and which he knew by heart. Each one of them he could name, could remember the pain and suffering that had accompanied them. The bruises, which had still not completely disappeared, surprised him just as little. All the more surprising for him was that this time should be over now and that the only pain he felt within a week was the one he had inflicted on himself while running with his still healing wounds.

And of course that the sunburn that had caused Knox to let him leave the flat today only after applying sunscreen.

Jean stared into his own eyes. Like an echo, his scars were waiting to be broken open again, his body was waiting for new pain because his nerves had been taught that way over the years. But they received nothing and so he drifted through the day without a goal. Without fixed points to tell him that everything was still the same and that his acquired thought patterns were still valid.  
Jean blinked and winced as she loosened the large plaster on his back and he instinctively took a step forward to escape her hands.

Firmly, but not too quickly, the doctor removed her hands from him and showed him that she would not do anything until he gave her the OK. Jean would have liked to shout at her that it didn't matter. Not now and not in the future.  
"The wound has become slightly infected, Mr Moreau. I'm afraid I'll have to clean it."  
What was there to be afraid of? 

He nodded and after a moment, the doctor resumed in examining the wound. What she was doing burned, but it was nothing like the pain he had felt when receiving the wound. Or at the bear hug from the goalie.  
"Do you have any possibilities of asking for help with cleaning this wound?" she asked into his memories of the giant boy and Jean shook his head. He couldn't ask Knox. He himself apparently couldn't manage to keep his unruly body in check. Jean seriously wondered how he had survived the last few years. How had he managed to play the past years with broken bones and bleeding wounds if he was already defeated by such a trivial task?

"Then I would like to ask you to come and see me every day from tomorrow on. I will disinfect the wound and renew the bandage. After a week we will see if I can clear you for practice."  
Alarmed, Jean looked up and wheeled around. "What? But I can play!" It almost escaped him fearfully before he could control himself. He frowned. "I've exercised with this before, played with worse, and this is just a stab wound."

Jean didn't understand the sadness he saw in the doctor's eyes as she returned his gaze, her hands still outstretched between them.  
"I believe you have played with far worse, Mr Moreau. But I cannot and will not allow this sport to hurt you any more than it already has. This isn't Evermore. USC cares about the health of its players. You will avoid any exertion for a week and take it easy. We will see each other every day and I will look at your progress. At the end of the week, we'll see if you are able to go further."

Jean opened his mouth, but realised from the sternness in her face that any contradiction would be met with iron will. So he closed his lips and stared at the floor, away from the knowing eyes, away from her soft, deep voice that had spoken the name "Evermore" with so much hatred that he shuddered.

"I will also give you painkillers. Can you sleep through the nights?" Again it was Jean's turn to answer this question with a shake of his head and he hoped she did not ask where he slept. But she only nodded simply.  
"Then I will give you a light sleeping medicine to help you find rest for the coming week."

Pain medication...sleeping pills...maybe Jean was actually dreaming right now and would wake up right back in Evermore. It couldn't all be true.

He wanted to refuse, but he couldn't find the right words, so he remained silent and waited for the end of her examinations. Why was his blood pressure important to her? Or his pulse? Or the sound of his lungs? He understood that she wanted to do a blood test...but the rest? He had been an athlete since childhood. What could be wrong with him? His knees were perfectly fine, as were his ribs.

She didn't seem to think so, as she frowned when she felt his chest and listened to his lungs again. Jean watched her worriedly. What if she found something again that made him sit out even longer? A week was already critical.

The words of the senior lawyer came to his mind. A valuable investment. That had been a promise and a threat at the same time, a ranking of his abilities and only those. Until he found the courage at the end of these two months, he could not risk others suffering for his transgressions. He had to be what the Trojan girls believed him to be. The best backliner in the league.

Jean thought of the dark-haired one. The backliner with whom he would be defending the Trojans' goal. She had engaged him in a discussion about game moves, to which he had not been averse, if he honestly admitted it to himself. Such a thing was new to him and he liked it more than he wanted to admit. She had asked him for his opinion and assessment and after his initial distrust of her, he had uttered the first, cautious words. Instead of violence, he had gotten an animated discussion. Knox had stayed out of it and Jean was glad of that. He would not talk back to his captain... no more than he had done now and did every night, sneaking away.

"You can get dressed again, Mr Moreau," the doctor pulled him out of his thoughts and Jean reached for his clothes. He wasted no time in covering his body and scars before following her into the office room and settling back into the chair there at her wish. Why should he, after all, everything had been said.  
But she still had to give him the medication. Jean stared silently at the packages, at the names he had never heard before. Again, a feeling of surreality engulfed him.

He was not prepared for the note she handed him. What was he supposed to do with it? Brian, who was that? And what was the number under the name? He looked up questioningly.

"Brian is one of our therapists here at USC. If you feel the need to talk to someone about your past in Evermore, he might be a right person." Rather taken aback, Jean stared at her. Somebody to...talk to? About his time at Evermore? Cold horror gripped Jean as he imagined talking to a stranger about what had happened. About everything Riko and the others had done to him. He swallowed with difficulty.  
"The decision is entirely yours, Mr Moreau," she explained further. "I just want you to know who you can turn to if you feel the need. Or if it becomes too much."

Jean didn't know what to say to that. He had survived. Wasn't that enough? As it seemed, everyone and everything at USC was pushing for him to be a person who got painkillers and sleeping pills, who got the number of a therapist he could call. Was that what it was like to be like him? Broken and damaged?  
He decided to ask Renee about it and quietly he took the number. If there was one thing Jean had learned over the last few years, it was, that living and surviving would be easier without resistance. So he nodded and took the smile that was given him in response as confirmation of his learned behaviour.

"That would be all for today. I don't want to keep you out of the sun any longer either, which I see you've been enjoying already." She grinned and winked at him. Rather to his sunburn and involuntarily Jean touched his face, which was indeed better thanks to Knox's cream.  
"Don't forget the sun cream, Mr Moreau!" she now joined in the canon and Jean raised his eyebrows doubtfully.  
"Am I allowed to go?"  
"Of course. I look forward to seeing you...tomorrow, same time, same place."

He didn't, not at all.

Without looking at her, he took the medication and realised he didn't have a bag to hide it in. Which wasn't really necessary, because she would be talking to his captain about his condition anyway. Jean took a bet on that.  
He rose and turned away from her smile, walking out into the corridor to Knox, who was still waiting for him.

The mobile phone his captain had in his hand was pinging incessantly, but it was apparently not as important as he was. Knox looked at him expectantly and Jean didn't quite know what he wanted from him. So he stared back, his gaze shifting between his chin and the other boy's eyes.  
"And…cleared for everything?" his captain asked, when apparently the silence was getting too much for him and Jean shook his head. He glanced at the doctor's name tag.  
"Doctor Chandler said she is suspending me from practice for a week."  
The blue eyes widened in surprise and Jean saw concern on the tanned face that didn't seem to be having nearly as much trouble with the sun as his own face was. Certainly, Knox was concerned that Jean would not be able to fulfill his duties properly.

"Are you all right?" asked Knox betraying unknowingly Jeans expectations and he inwardly rolled his eyes at this. This was USC, he reminded himself. California. This was where the person he wasn't supposed to be counted.  
"Yeah."  
"But why did she bench you?"  
Jean was torn between telling an obvious lie and not answering. The latter was ruled out because he had received a direct question. From his captain. He knew better than to remain silent in response.  
"An injury on my back has become infected and she would like to see progress in healing first," Jean replied, appropriately neutral, and again it was surprise that flowed towards him.

And concern.

Jean growled and with great restraint it was only within himself.

"Oh God, that's why you flinched when Ajeet hugged you. I'm terribly sorry about that! If I had known, I would have made sure he didn't do that. I'm terribly sorry! Is there anything I can do for you?" Knox broke into his wordy babble almost instantly and Jean was briefly tempted to answer with a yes to the question. Knox could stop being him. He could just stop talking.  
"Why are you sorry?" he asked in confusion instead before he could stop himself. He couldn't make sense of his captain‘s logic of it all. Why should Knox, who really had nothing to do with causing the wound, apologise for it?  
"Because it would have saved you suffering!"

As matter-of-factly as Knox reasoned, Jean was unwilling to accept it, for it would bring his captain even closer to Renee than he would have liked. She was like that too. So obscurely illogical. So compassionate. Could a captain ever be compassionate?

Jean suspected, no, feared, that the Californian answer to that was yes. He sighed. This time actually out loud.

"You are not being responsible for this." Jean said it impatiently, where he had intended to be respectful and polite. But Knox was not bothered by his tone, on the contrary. He smiled as if Jean had said something particularly good and for a moment he wondered if he might have been speaking French in his frustration.  
"But I feel responsible for it, Jean, as I feel responsible for you."

Once upon a time Jean would have pulled at his hair at this point. Since he knew what it was like to have whole tufts torn out, he refrained from the comparison and forcibly schooled his face to expressionlessness. He kept silent and averted his eyes, hoping that this particularly stupid line of conversation would end there.

It did.

"Did Doc Fiona take your blood, too?" The next strange question and Jean nodded. As enthusiastically as Knox was now grinning, his answer couldn't be the right one. It really couldn't.  
"Then you are in dire need need of ice!"  
No. Certainly not. Jean didn't need ice to cool the puncture site. That was ridiculous. Really. But before he could open his mouth and actually talk back to his captain, the latter beat him to it with a resolute wave of his hand.

"No objections, Moreau," the admonishing index finger from this morning came into view and Jean knew better than to say anything now. He preferred to take his time looking at it and drawing comparisons between Knox's index finger and his own, which was less straight but had fewer calluses. The farm, he remembered.  
"Come on, let's go."

Jean sighed inwardly. What else could he do but follow his captain's orders?

The fact that they were not going back to the flat became clear to Jean only belatedly because of his disorientation on this campus. Too late, he thought, when they suddenly found themselves in front of a shop that made him realise the double meaning of the word ice.  
For cooling, yes, but Jean didn't think he should be smearing ice cream on his arm. He looked down in disbelief at his captain who, with a satisfied gleam and that very index finger, pointed to the counter where there were ice cream flavors Jean couldn't even pronounce. It had been more than a decade since he had been in an ice cream parlour.

While Jean was realising what that meant, Knox entered the shop and waved cheerfully at the man behind the counter.  
"Jer, hey! You alright?" Of course, his captain was known here too. Why was he even surprised, Jean asked himself with a touch of self-deprecating exasperation.  
"Everything's great! Chris, we've got a bitten one here!" Jean wasn't able to comprehend the meaning of shock on Knox's face and even less the horror on the other boy's face. What was happening here?  
"Doc Chandler hasn’t got any mercy in her!" the man huffed, and Jean couldn't agree. The needle under his skin had been uncomfortable, but nothing bad compared to everything else.

"Jean," Knox turned his full attention to him and Jean swallowed nervously.  
"It's a good old Trojan tradition that any newcomer who's been sucked empty by vampire Doc Chandler gets an ice cream as a first thing afterwards. Size doesn't matter, number of flavours doesn't matter. So, what do you want?"  
Jean had expected a lot, but not this. It reminded him of the old days, when he had had to go to a doctor in Marseilles for vaccinations. The doctor had always given him a colourful lollipop as a reward for his bravery. Jean remembered that he had loved the sticky sweetness.

That time was gone, irretrievably.

"I...don't know the ice cream flavours," Jean replied appropriately haltingly, realising his mistake as soon as the words left his mouth. He should have said that he didn't eat ice cream. Or that he didn't feel like eating ice cream. Perhaps even that would be possible with Knox. But putting his unknowingness out there as a first answer was stupid because it opened up possibilities.  
"Oh. Hmm." Knox frowned, then turned to the vendor. "A bit of everything then please!"

" _What?!_ " Jean asked at the same time as the man who eyed them both wide-eyed. Knox himself gave an image of perfect innocence as he eyed them both with an amused smirk.  
"What?" he countered, signalling...Chris, that was his name, to continue. Feverishly, Jean considered how else he could prevent the coming catastrophe that was unfolding here in front of him as the man picked up a plate and began spreading small scoops of all sorts on it.  
"I..." he began, but got no further. In Evermore, sweets had been strictly forbidden to him. That, what had been beaten into him for years, now whispered that he would be punished for every spoonful he took. They would beat him until he was nothing but a bleeding pulp.

With frightening clarity, Jean realised that that time was gone. No one from Evermore would come and punish him for this. The main branch of the family had approved his transfer to the Trojans. Here he had Knox to tell him what to do.

Knox who was sorry he had been hurt by his late ex-captain. Knox who would make him breakfast. Knox who touched his hands without hurting them. Who gave him so much intellectual input that even now Jean remembered the colourful artworks of the Art District.

"Wonderful, thank you!" That very same person brought him out of his thoughts and Jean looked down at a plate full of colourful little ice cream scoops. He blinked. There was no way he was going to manage all that on his own.  
"I am not able to eat that much," he muttered almost inaudibly, and Knox lifted the two spoons he held in his hands with a wink.  
"Anything you can't manage, I'll eat. Don't worry!"

It was easy for Knox to talk...  
Silently, Jean followed him outside and settled carefully beside his captain at one of the shadowy tables under the huge trees.

~~~~~~~  
_To be continued._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehe. There they are, the girls. Poor Jean, poor Jeremy, this is going to be interesting. :D
> 
> I always appreciate comments, critics, kudos... feel free to share your opinion! :)


	11. Scoop diplomacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy is greedy, Jean confused. There's a lot of everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear readers, I am really sorry for the long delay of this chapter. Things have been a little busy since the beginning of this year and will stay that way for a while. But I'm not forgetting to translate FoN, I promise! 
> 
> As for now, stay safe and wear a mask. *hugs*

The sweet smell of the ice cream in front of him drifted into Jean's nose and made him realise again that no one from Evermore would come and punish him. He was allowed to eat ice cream. He was supposed to, after all, because his captain had spoken clearly. Jean stared at the multicoloured smorgasbord of incredible eighteen scoops and wondered if Knox had lost his mind.  
Even if his captain would be eating them too, it would be far too much. No one could eat that in a lifetime.

Doubtful, his gaze rested on the boy who was now holding out a spoon to him. The metal object hung in the air between them and Jean had the feeling that if he reached for it, he would not only be accepting this nonsensical Trojan's tradition, but that he would also be entering into a non-verbal contract with his captain, of which he did not even know the paragraphs at this point.

It wouldn't kill him to try and just as he had rebelliously banished the black and gold bowl next to the Day puzzle, so now he rebelliously decided to overturn the Evermore rules as far as his diet plan was concerned. Riko was dead, the Master no longer ruled over him.  
He was here and had received an offer he had to accept before it melted.

Silently, Jean placed the medicine and the note tucked between them on his lap and reached for the spoon. Still, he waited for his captain's permission to begin, which was given to him rather impatiently after a second of comprehension.  
"Go on, it'll melt otherwise!" Full of joyful anticipation, Knox stared at him and Jean lowered his gaze, concentrating his attention on the plate.

Cautiously he tasted the first flavour and chocolate exploded in his mouth. Chocolate like Jean had last enjoyed a decade ago.  
For a moment the sheer taste of it was unbelievable and it tasted completely wrong. His memories, flawed and incomplete as they had become over the years, told him it couldn't be. Too sweet, too heavy, too wrong. Then...slowly, his taste buds got used to it and he took a second spoonful, half of the portion this time. Chocolate, he noted for himself affirmatively, and decided that this was now the taste for it.

"Well?" asked Knox nervously beside him, and Jean wondered why his opinion was important. What was he supposed to say in response? It was...sweet and sticky and overwhelming. His taste buds were running wild. He already felt that the sugar was having a negative effect on him.  
Jean shrugged and turned his attention to the next scoop.

Banana. At least Jean thought so, while his taste buds weren't so sure about that. He had eaten fruits in Evermore, but not like this. So much sugar, so much sweetness... and he....

Between all of his feelings of rebellion and trying something new, something else stole itself in between the conflicting emotions. He hadn't felt it for years and had thought it long time dead. But now it pulled and tugged at him the more Jean dwelled on it. 

Homesickness. 

Chocolate and banana made him homesick, which he couldn‘t believe at first.

The last time he had felt homesick, he had come to Evermore and learned that he would never return to his family because they had left him in that hell hole. From one moment to the next he had been torn from his beloved and familiar surroundings, cast out from his family into a hostile environment that had made him also hostile. Gradually, every positive feeling had ceased to exist and had been replaced by anger, hatred, fear and a sense of betrayal.

Renee had given him back tiny pieces of his gentleness. She had given him hope and through her he had rediscovered what friendship and devotion could mean. What Knox was unwittingly doing here was similar, yet so entirely different on a closer look. Homesickness carried a glimpse of home that he certainly didn't find here in South California. But it allowed him to relive that very feeling, something Jean had never thought possible to feel again.

And it was wonderful.

So, spoon by spoon, he tasted his way through the other varieties full of fruit and cake and vanilla and more chocolate, while his thoughts were in his homeland, in the warm summers there that carried the smell of sea and cypresses through the narrow and steep alleys of his hometown called Marseilles.

It was only when he had tasted the last flavour that Jean looked up and found the strength to look Knox in the eyes. Despite the gentle smile, the latter had already impatiently raised his own spoon. The greed showing in the very blue eyes spoke for itself and Jean wondered why Knox hadn't just taken the plate away from him if he wanted some ice cream for himself. Surely that was his right. Why hadn't he said anything or just pulled it away?

"Well?" his captain asked expectantly and Jean wondered if it would be better to lie to Knox. Would his captain forbid him another scoop when he realised he liked it? Jean was unsure, therefore he shied away from an aswer. A lie would be dangerous, too dangerous for Jean not to eventually choose the truth.  
"It was good."  
Knox grinned. "You want some more?"  
Jean's heart stopped for a moment as he realised the double meaning of the question. Where there could be less, there could be also more. For heaven's sake…

"No," Jean replied firmly, pausing before averting his gaze as Knox's grin became too bright and radiant for him. "Thank you," he said finally, placing the spoon on the table. As he did so, it was not difficult for him to interpret the eyes darting back and forth between him and the plate for what they were: waiting greedily for him to release what he would not eat.

Jean sighed inwardly and pushed the plate in Knox's direction.

With wordless amazement, he watched the Trojan captain eat the rest of the ice cream at a speed that made Jean wonder if the boy tasted anything at all. Apparently he did, looking at the boy's enraptured expression. Apparently the ravenous hyena at the other end of the table did taste it and Jean had found it twitching in his fingers more than once to pull the plate away from Knox...just to see how he would react.

In another life, he would have playfully tried.

That he even wasted a thought on doing that made Jean frown. His forced respect screamed at him that this was no way to think about his captain. Silently, Jean snorted. Hadn't his ex-captain forbidden him to speak French too? He had. And hadn't he spoken that very language with Day and also Josten? Yes, he had.

No, his resistance was not completely dead. But that didn't mean he was going to make the last few weeks harder than they needed to be.

As if he had heard it, his mobile phone pinged in his pocket. The time and tone of the message were right and Jean paused for a moment. He knew what the message was. He knew who it was from.

"Aren't you curious who’s texted you?" Knox asked and Jean raised an eyebrow.  
"No. Are you?" it escaped him before he could stop himself and he watched with no small satisfaction as the blond boy's ears turned almost as red as the strawberry ice cream that was still in the corners of his captain's mouth.

~~**~~

"Do you use Instagram or Twitter?"

Jean looked up from the letters that had formed into words in his mind until just now and put his finger in the book as a bookmark. He frowned as he tried to make sense of Knox's words. When the latter did not explain what he meant but continued to stare at him expectantly, Jean sighed silently. Something he realised he had been doing a lot lately in the presence of his captain. Why didn't Knox just keep talking, as he usually did?

"I don’t know these programs. What are they?" he finally asked out of necessity, and Knox opened his mouth like shocked people did, whose worldview was about to shatter in the next moment. From one moment to the next, he had the full attention of his captain, who now turned to him. Jean swallowed. That had never ended well for him. Never.   
"Excuse me?!"  
Jean had the unmistakable feeling that these items or programs belonged to something that was essential for a human being. Of course, Evermore didn’t get him those accounts, whatever they were. Distractions had been forbidden to him, as had been contacts with the outside world.  
"You don't know the horrible shallows of Twitter and Instagram? Facebook at least? Skype? Tumblr? Snapchat? Buzzfeed? Reddit? 4chan?"

Jean blinked. Once too often, as it turned out, because when he opened his eyes again, Knox had already jumped up, giving Jean the scare of his life as he came to him and dropped down beside him on the bed he was currently sitting on.

Whether it was the heavy body lowering the mattress beside him or the direct presence of another human being, his captain... instinct and bad memories made Jean recoil violently and hastily towards the headboard without hesitation, his knees pressed against his body, his hands clawed into the sheet close to his body. Like when he had first entered Knox‘s car, Jean's instincts screamed that something bad would happen right now.  
In Evermore, the presence of another boy in his bed had always resulted in violence, humiliation and pain. Even when Riko had taken it upon himself to chain Josten to Jean‘s bedpost and put the knife in Jean‘s hand to soil his sheets for once with blood other than his own.

Jean remained in his position, his gaze lowered just enough so that he didn't have to look Knox directly in the eye, but high enough to anticipate his captain's movements to prepare himself. His heart raced with fear. Maybe he could escape before anything happened. Maybe he could push the other boy off him, grab his things and escape. Just get away from here and then... maybe he could change the deal to less than two months.

But nothing happened. Like at the airport, nothing happened. Knox just sat there and when Jean finally dared to lift his eyes, he saw no gloating or sadism in his captain's face, but shocked concern. Wide and frightened blue eyes stared at him and told him how significant the difference between Riko and Knox was.

"I...just...wanted..." Knox began, swallowing against the lump in his throat. "I'm sorry, Jean. Please, I didn't mean...I just wanted to show you..."  
Like a drowning man, Jean clung to the differences his logical thinking brought up between the two captains. The appearance, completely different. The behaviour, a difference like day and night. The thoughts, too... right?  
Jean swallowed hard against his racing heartbeat.

Despite Knox's open admission that he liked and fucked men, he was not assaulting him. Despite being his captain, he did not raise a hand against him.  
Shakily, Jean exhaled and tried to force more oxygen back into his lungs, tried to find something like a rule to hang on to.

Desperation crept onto the usually sunny face and jerkily Knox turned his laptop over, so that the screen was facing Jean, although he couldn‘t make out much through his narrowed field of vision.   
What he did recognise was colourful and squeaky.  
"Here, I wanted to show you this. I have pictures on my accounts. Lots of them... of our team, my family, me, the neighbourhood. I didn't mean..." Knox‘s voice trailed off again and he fell silent, lowering his gaze to something so trivial it would have made Jean snort at any other time.

Now, however, he took advantage of every distraction that came his way and focused his attention on the coloured spots that were gradually becoming clear images. Anything that woulg get him away from his memories was good.  
Jean cleared his throat, still not really able to break free of his position.  
"Show...show me," he pressed out, rough, inhuman, unrecognisable even to his ears. It was a request, even if he struggled to articulate it.

"I can also get up, go back to my bed, that's no problem at all, then you can browse through them on your own. As you wish, Jean. You don't even need to look at them, really. You can tell me if you don’t want to or if you don’t like it," his captain babbled on in quick bursts and Jean had the feeling that he would get a headache just from the speed of the words Knox was squeezing out of his mouth.

His thoughts, however, were not troubled by them. Like hungry predators, they pounced on the sentences that were supposed to calm him down. Riko had never said things like that. Not once. Jean wasn't meant to voice his wishes in Evermore and suddenly, they were important, even to his captain. Did he want Knox to sit here or did he prefered him to be somewhere else?

Of course he preferred Knox not to be so close to him at this moment, but as much as Jean had been frightened by the abrupt closeness, he hated the memories that were responsible for that and the fear that came with it. He hated the feeling which was deeply rooted in him, so abysmally that he rebelled against it. With everything in his power, he rebelled against it and held up a mirror to that very fear with a sneer. Just as he had spoken French when he was near Riko, just as he had whispered to Josten again and again not to sign the contract, he remained here, denying Knox's suggestion.

"No." No more than a croak it was...at first. "No, stay," he also managed at least the beginnings of a sentence a few moments later.  
"Are you sure this is okay?"  
If Knox only knew how much that simple question cut deep into his soul and filled Jean with disbelief. Abby had asked that. Renee had asked that. And now Knox, too.  
Jean nodded curtly as he stared at the screen, his gaze flicking up only briefly.

It was enough to see the cautious reluctance that followed the dread he had apparently evoked in his captain. Jean swallowed.

"Do you want to stay seated like that?"  
It was a yes for now. Maybe the whole evening, too. Jean needed the wall at his back now, as an assurance that he had no one behnd him, that no one could get to him so easily. That was the admission he had to make to himself. Stealthily, he hid his fingers between his chest and his thighs.

Belatedly, Jean nodded and Knox turned the screen so that he could reach his keyboard. Without hesitating, his captain devoted himself to his new task. Unsteady hands enlarged one of the pictures and Knox began quiet, halting explanations that Jean did not understand. Not yet. Just now he let himself be lulled by the pure sound of the voice, so much different from the voices he had heard in the presence of other boys in his bed.

Knox guided him through the site, explaining the basic functions based on a few pictures. He zoomed into pictures that flooded Jean with such a plethora of life that he could hardly keep up to take in all the details.  
There were pictures of the team hugging each other and grinning sweatily at the camera like there was nothing better than Exy. Jean recognised many of the players. He marvelled at the grins he saw, as if Exy was nothing important and something to have fun with. Knox told him names, which Jean let wash through him because they weren't important. He wouldn't remember them in the time he was here anyway.

With a soft smile, his captain showed him the photos of his family and the farm. Two younger sisters, twins that Jean couldn't tell apart, even though it was apparently obvious according to Knox. Father, mother, two older brothers, all blond, only their eyes were different colors. They were all enthroned in the midst of the farm and its animals. Jean saw horses, cows, pigs, dogs, cats and chickens. Geese that had strayed into the house.  
The landscape was as vast as Knox had described and Jean had imagined it, and the image of the red-hot sunset awakened a thrill in him that he couldn't really place at first.

It was quite the opposite to the images of the Trojans on the beach. Half-naked, tanned and so carefree that it was almost negligent. How could anyone waste their time like that and not work out or practice? Jean coulnd't understand that, even though he remembered Knox's words all too well. The destructive rhythm of Evermore did not exist here. In Los Angeles, people went with the flow of the sun. Here it was possible to have free time. it was possible to hang out at the beach.

Here it was allowed to eat everything and Jean saw that too in the pictures, which showed lots of food he had never seen before in his life. He recognized the two young women who had eaten breakfast with them, sitting in front of a huge bowl of pasta, Knox in the background, grinning broadly.

And he saw pictures of opposing players with whom his captain got along well. There were countless of them, taken before and after the games. The picture of Day and Knox, however, forced Jean to look away, because he could not bear to see the joy and affection in the Fox's eyes, which the latter apparently felt for Knox and which Knox certainly reciprocated.

While Knox was explaining, Jean actually found something like peace.   
The trembling of his limbs subsided and his hands came out of their hiding place behind his knees onto the mattress. He even relaxed his legs a little, though he was still far from arranging them comfortably. More and more often, he glanced briefly at Knox as he explained trivialities that were more or less unimportant. Still, Jean had listened to him and was now tossing these details back and forth in his mind. The goose that had ventured onto the kitchen table was named Eva. Who named their animals like that?

Jean was even relaxed enough to frown now as Knox tried to introduce him to Twitter and to convince him of the benefits of having his own account.  
Jean cleared his throat. "140 characters to tell the world about oneself on a website that has a bird for a logo, with a hash mark for keywords, which are called hashtags?" he summarized what Knox had just told him.  
Knox‘s uncertainty had also subsided in the time being and he smiled excitedly. "Exactly!"  
"Why would I do that?" The smile died and Knox became almost desperate.  
"So you can share."  
Jean wondered if he should repeat his question.

"Look, you can write stuff like this!", Knox showed him his own - as Jean now knew - tweets. Tweeting, what a strange yet fitting translation for the meaningless sentences he had posted online and received an astonishing number of hearts - likes - for. And further tweets - retweets. Jean wasn't convinced by this kind of communication, especially since Alvarez, that was the name of the dark-haired girl from this morning, replied to Knox with equally meaningless things and got likes for it as well.

"Am I expected to write such things?" Jean questioned, fervently hoping that it wouldn't be expected of him or that Knox would maintain Jean's account.  
"Only if you want to, Jean."  
He shook his head. He could maybe imagine uploading pictures, though that sense also eluded him. But telling people how he had felt during his games or in his free time, like Knox did, that was unthinkable to him.  
"Then you don't need it. I'd recommend claiming your account for yourself, though. Then you'll have something official. You don't have to use it, and if you play Exy professionally, you can have your agent manage to do the proper PR."

Jean blinked and stared surprised at Knox, who cleared his throat in embarrassment. "If you want to go pro at all. I thought because you're so excellent and the best backliner in our league and from Evermore and...I mean the...the perfect court..."  
Apparently it was one of Knox's traits that he talked a lot of nonsense when he was nervous. It was something that united him with Hemmick, and Jean tightened his lips at the memory of spending the evening in the Fox's grip.  
Knox, of course, referred to it to himself. "Not ok? Sorry, I didn't think you were doing anything different. If I‘ve offended you in any way by saying that, I apologize."  
"It's fine," Jean rebuffed. His plans had never gone beyond his college graduation. He hadn't worried about his future because he hadn't had one.

And now?

"You said there were other programs and websites," Jean deflected from the subject, regretting it for every single one of the next twenty minutes, during which Knox gave him a headache-inducing crash course through seemingly every social media channel there was, but all of which were nonsensical and useless. A program that deleted pictures on its own shortly after posting them online? Why?

"Shall I also give you a brief introduction to online banking?" asked Knox in conclusion, and Jean looked up. Between all the useless stuff, this was still the most useful thing. Jean nodded accordingly and was rewarded with a smile.

"Have you ever had an online banking account?"  
Jean shook his head and Knox raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Okay...so you did your transfers offline?" When Jean denied that as well, his captain tilted his head questioningly, apparently waiting for an explanation he couldn't give.  
"Okay. Did you have an agent do that for you in Evermore?"  
Jean was more confused by the question than he was willing to admit. An agent? "I didn't have an account. The finances were handled by the Master," he specified, and Knox looked up from his laptop so quickly his neck cracked. Jean wondered if that would be healthy.

"Excuse me?" Knox inquired, apparently hoping he had misheard, and Jean shrugged. In a slow, careful movement, he crossed his arms in front of his chest.  
"Is it different here?" Jean inquired, seeing the answer already on Knox's face before the other boy even opened his mouth.  
"Definetely! We have our own accounts that no one else has access to. Like Coach Rhemann said."

Jean nodded, even though he already suspected that he wouldn't really understand that concept either. Why would someone like him have access to money? He didn't need it, so it would be perfectly sufficient if Coach Rhemann made the necessary expenditures and kept the rest. But the determination in Knox's eyes kept Jean from pursuing the subject any further.

"Well, here we go," Knox rubbed his fingers together, and Jean really wasn't sure at that moment if that was a a promise or a threat. A moment later he was sure it was the latter, but one that wouldn't bring him pain. At least not pain that was the result of violence.

It brought him a headache, because by the time Knox was done explaining, his mind was buzzing with knowledge Jean had acquired. He now knew he had a credit card and an online bank account. He knew how to make transfers and check how much money he had left. He had also seen how much money was already on it and that it was the amount of his scholarship.

When Knox had retreated to the bathroom for a moment, Jean got up and went to the bowl the lawyer had given him. In it there were still the two envelopes, from which he now took the one already opened one and thoughtfully pulled out the card and the accompanying letter.  
He did what he had just learned from Knox with the data he found here, and waited for the window to build up that would tell him how much the Moriyamas thought his disgrace was worth.

When it showed on screen, Jean couldn't help but stare. He took only a passing notice that Knox stepped out of the bathroom again. That his captain said his name was equally irrelevant at this moment. Jean was captivated by the number he saw on the screen. The meaning of it was instantly clear to him and it was pure mockery and derision staring back at him. So that's how much his pain had been worth? His humiliation and degradation? The nightmares he still had about it?

"Jean?" Concern wormed its way to him and he looked up blindly. The change in position put Knox behind him, and right now Jean was far too numb with the rest of his emotions to care. From his position, Knox was able to have a perfect view of the screen and in the latter's face Jean saw exactly the disturbed emotions he felt deep inside of himself.

Jean didn't even know that Knox could turn so pale, his eyes so big, and that the other boy could actually run out of words.

"Jean?" his captain finally croaked, and Jean averted his eyes, back to the screen that was telling him his worth. The value of his disgrace.

Five million dollars.

~~~~~~~~  
To be continued.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, criticism, kudos, favs... I thrive on all of them. :3


	12. Kintsugi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy talks, Jean flees, Alvarez is making deals.

Eating during the flight had certainly not been one of his wisest decisions. 

Not at all, Jean kept in mind as he knelt with his heart beating in fear in one of the men's toilets at Los Angeles airport, entrusting the contents of his stomach to the bowl so that it could give testimony of his widespread incompetence to the sewage system. How incapable he was of taking care of himself was evidenced by the scars on his body. Not good enough for the Master‘s demands. Not good enough for Riko's demands. Not good enough to have a life of his own. Not good enough to stay in Palmetto.

And now not good enough to not keep his new owner waiting. No wonder Riko had punished him so often for his failure to follow the simplest orders or for his resistance and his attempts to be human.   
Jean closed his eyes and clawed his fingertips into the tiles until it hurt. It hadn't even been two months since Renee had pulled him out of the Ravens' clutches to save him, because in a weak moment of desperate humanity, he had forgotten that as a Moriyama possession he had no right to ask to be saved like a normal human.

But she had heard him and had thus thrown him into his own personal hell. 

When he had finally realized what had happened, he had tried to return.   
Three times he had forced himself out of the nurse's bed in pain, nausea and dizziness to get dressed and return to Evermore to escape an even worse punishment that Riko would surely have in store for him. Three times he had been stopped. By the nurse herself, by Renee and finally by Minyard. Three times before he had given up and just waited for the Moriyama's henchmen to come to the nurse's house, kill her and take him away. 

But they hadn't come and before Jean could carry out the thought of putting an end to all this himself, Josten and Day had informed him about things he had hardly thought possible.   
Riko was dead and he would not return to Evermore. His value had sunk to the bottom after Riko had apparently done everything to make him useless with his knife, his kicks and punches. Thereby his body healed and he would surely be able to play with the Trojans. He had already trained and played with more serious injuries. 

Evermore didn't want him anymore as well as the Foxes. They had sold him, even if they didn't call it that. Day had told him that, too. To the Trojans, of all people. The saints of their league, showered with prizes for their community spirit and sportsmanship. The Foxes hadn't wanted him, not that Jean had given any thought to ever wanting to work with this chaotic and self-destructive team. Especially since the sight of Josten reminded him over and over again what a monster he had been on Riko's orders. Every scar on the boy's face and body, which he had inflicted on him to avoid being punished, reminded him that he was no better than his deceased owner. 

He couldn't really stand Day's presence, his self-righteous fixation on Exy and nothing else. The fear Day had for his ability to play outweighed even a human life. Although, no, his human life, Jean rectified. He was human, but property, and it didn't matter what happened to property. But most of all, it didn't matter how Jean felt about it.

That he still had feelings after all these years in Riko's sadistic hands was undisputed and a mystery to Jean. You would have thought that by now all emotions had been tortured out of him and that only pain remained. But no, his feelings were just as much in his way as they were a decade ago. He was desperate, he cherished hope to lose them over and over again. He hated and was angry. He was numb and yet he burned with restlessness and uncertainty. But most of all he was afraid, especially now. 

It was not enough that he had been sold. Unlike when his parents had handed him over to the Moriyamas to settle a debt, he had signed the contract that had now been presented to him. Because that's the way it had to be in America. Officially, there was no property. Unofficially, everyone looked away. No one cared whether the laws were broken and so Jean had only been able to laugh inside during his college law lectures at Evermore. Human trafficking... it happened every day and under the college nose, even here in America. It didn't even require cages or restraints. 

Fear was enough.

Fear was enough for him to sign the contract that would make the coach and captain of the Trojans his new owners and finally set him off on a journey to a new captivity that would be even more hell than Evermore had ever been. As Riko had been a known evil, he knew what to expect from him. Evermore had been a darkness that had swallowed him over and over again with its red and black walls, the lack of daylight and the adjusted rhythm to the perfect training sequences. He had learned to find his way through it, if necessary with broken bones and a slashed body. He had learned that there were no limits when it came to using property. 

But now he did not know whether he could still apply what he had learned. South California was everything that West Virginia was not. The sun had been shining since they were on their landing approach. Even the airport corridors were bright and warm. Jean's body had reacted with goose bumps that still hadn't flattened. Even in the nurse's house there had not been so much warmth. 

Los Angeles was loud and cheerful, people laughed and crowded together, forming a homogenous mass that threatened to crush Jean as soon as he got off the plane.

One of the reasons why he knelt here and why the trembling that had taken possession of his body would not abate, even though he was aware that he could not let his new owners wait any longer. He already had punishment on him, so he did not have to challenge any more broken bones. 

Swaying, Jean rose and flushed the remains of his incapacity down the toilet bowl. With his eyes lowered, he stepped out of the cabin and washed his hands and rinsed his mouth. The captain of the Trojans was known for not caring about girls, so his punishment would probably be the same as Riko‘s. He didn't want to evoke more resentment at the smell of his own bitter vomit when Knox shoved his cock in his mouth. 

Jean pulled the hood of his sweater deeper into his face and shouldered his bag. Hand luggage, that was all of his life. Property had no possession, Riko had taught him over and over again. So his belongings were limited to what Renee, the nurse, Abby was her name, and Josten had given him. Why Josten did such a thing, even though he had tortured him as much as Riko had, was still a mystery to Jean. He hadn't asked, but silently put the smartphone into his pocket, which held the numbers of all of the Foxes and their nurse. Where Jean had suspected that it must have been an accident, Renee had assured him that everything was correct. 

Slowly he walked towards the exit, where Knox was waiting for him.   
He knew that by the time the doors of the departure area opened in front of him, he would have to raise his eyes to recognize the boy, but he still had a few meters to go. Four meters which became three faster than he would have liked, at two the automatic sliding doors opened and with a racing pulse Jean finally stepped through them, briefly raised his eyes and realized with horror that it wasn't that difficult to find Knox. The blond boy was the only one standing at the waiting gate. 

He had made him wait until all the passengers had been picked up.

Jean swallowed and stepped around the barrier, his eyes fixed on the feet of his new captain and owner, hoping that Knox would acknowledge his silent sign of submission.   
"There you are! I was afraid you'd get lost in this chaos of an airport," his captain's voice came towards him and Jean flinched in anticipation of a blow that didn't come. Not even after a bitter, heavy silence came between them and Knox apparently demanded an apology from him. 

Jean bowed his head in silence because he didn't trust his stomach. 

"Is everything OK with you?" Worry replaced the joy in Knox‘ voice and Jean swallowed again. He looked up carefully and settled at the base of Knox‘ neck before he dared to go any further. He had to speak, otherwise it would be a sign of disobedience and that would be an outrage beyond comparison. Jean cleared his dry throat.   
"'It is an honour to be here', he replied with the learned phrase of gratitude and reaped once more a confused silence. Was it not right? Had he already gone too far? Jean looked up and dared to look into Knox's face, which showed him not the expected anger but open confusion and a frozen hand stretched out between them.

"Ahm. Yes... I'm looking forward to meeting you, too," Knox replied, slowly drawing his hand back to himself, his wide lips curled into an embarrassed smile. Now that he had dared to look, Jean really glanced at the boy, whom he had often met at games, and who looked so different from what he had seen on the court in his protective armour and blonde hair sticking sweaty to his head. At least Jean thought he could remember him like this, even if his memories of many games were fragmentary and intertwined, infused with delirious pain. 

What he clearly remembered, however, were the times when Knox, in his function as a striker, had broken through his defenses. The Master had acknowledged this with fury and had punished him accordingly. The scars of the old knife and whip wounds still hurt when it was cold. But this had not been the only hatred Riko had had for the blond boy with chaotic, half long hair. Actually, it was Day's fault. Day and his damned fondness and excitement for the gifted Trojan striker. Day and his infatuation that he hadn't been able to hide from Riko, which he had used as an opportunity to show Day what it meant when men fucked men properly. 

Knox's existence as Day's crush was to blame for rape number three, like the number that branded him as property. How ironic and bitter it was that Kevin, of all people, had instigated his property transfer. 

"Do you only have this bag?" Knox asked into his memories, and Jean could not prevent the spark of hatred flickering at the light-heartedness of the question. Knox had no idea what his existence had caused. He, too, closed his eyes to reality. As if he didn't know that possessions shouldn't have property. As if he didn't have the contract and as soon as they were at the college, he would demand Jean‘s passport.   
Jean knew an answer was expected of him, so he nodded in silence and Knox cleared his throat. Embarrassed, he scratched the back of his head and looked from his bag to him and back again. 

"Shall I take it for you?" he asked, and Jean's grip tightened involuntarily on the strap. He didn’t know what to make of the question. Was it a test, an order, a trap? What did Knox care about except digging through his things and taking away what made him even remotely human, only to regiment and re-equip him as he pleased?

Whatever it was, he had no choice. Jean silently handed over the bag with his belongings to Knox and the boy beamed at him as if he had just won the championship. What might be hiding behind that grin, Jean could only guess, even if he had a very specific idea of what to expect. 

He rememberd very well, how Rico's grin had finally changed from amused to manic to sadistic and had forced merciless torture on him. 

"Shall we? My car is outside and I feel like the parking fee is slowly eating up my monthly fee."  
Jean swallowed at the tormented words. He was to blame for it and surely he would have to make up for this failure as well as for everything else.   
"I apologise," he muttered with a downcast look and moved on to Knox, who stared at him in surprise.

"Oh please no, don’t you take the credit for that," he swayed and stroked his way through the blonde hair, which didn't really get any tidier. Jean noticed how tanned Knox was. So at least his captain spent a lot of time in the sun of South California. Maybe Jean was even allowed to look out the window one or two times or even enjoy the warmth when he had earned it. Now he would certainly lock him up in the dormitory for weeks. Riko would have done that. 

Silently he followed him through the airport to the parking garage, where they walked to an old, rickety car, a brand Jean had never heard of and which he didn't want to get into at first. But Knox left him little choice when he put his bag into the creaking trunk with a wide smile and unlocked the passenger door for him. He had to pull the door itself open with a tug. Jean had the suspicion that the metallic screeching was not part of the normal equipment of the car. 

"Yes, it is old, sluggish and it squeals, but it drives," Knox explained, as if he had seen the doubt on his face, which Jean strongly doubted. Riko had taught him for years to control his emotions and sensitivities towards strangers and not to let anyone else participate in their little games of torture and imprisonment. After all, it was nobody's business if the property suffered.   
He raised his eyes and met again the embarrassed grin with which Knox now pointed into the interior of his car.

Obedient and carefully trying to keep his distance, Jean sat down on the passenger seat and flinched as a spring bored into the back of his thigh. It did not hurt him very much, only his thigh, because like his entire upper body, it was sore from Riko's blows. The bruise that now hit the pointed spring made him flinch and groan in surprise, much to the obvious horror of his captain.

Knox bent over to him jerkily, his hands on Jean‘s shoulder and thigh, his face so close that Jean was tickled by the unruly hair. 

Not that Jean was interested in Knox‘s hair at the very moment. Out of instinctive reflex, he had retreated, at least as far as his current position allowed. With his eyes wide open, he stared at Knox's face that was so close to him and for a few beats he had the feeling that his heart had simply stopped. Now the other boy would beat him. He had lulled him until Jean wasn't paying attention and now he would pay for his impertinence in the dark seclusion of the parking garage. 

Jean swallowed in panic and a sound no less fearful escaped his lips. "I'm sorry," he pressed out, nothing more than a hoarse whisper. "I'm really sorry and it won't happen again," he pleaded fervently and could not help but fix his eyes on the blue eyes staring at him as if he had just spoken of the end of the world. For endless seconds nothing happened at all, then Knox straightened up so quickly that Jean flinched again in anticipation of a blow. 

Step by step Knox retreated back with his face twisted in disbelief. Like a drowning man, Jean clung to every movement, every sign of an impending explosion, but nothing came.   
"Jean, are you all right? I didn't mean to...," Knox began, then faltered, more confused than angry. "That's a spring in my car sticking out, it's not your fault, you don't have to apologize. Why are you...?"

Jean could tell him so many things, in that moment. Things were on the tip of his tongue that he had to swallow by force. Another excuse was on his tongue, but he swallowed that, too. Knox had just told him that this was not wanted. Illogically even. 

"Okay," Jean finally replied, to break the silence between them somehow and to stop Knox from continuing to stare at him as if he were a rare insect.   
"Okay? Really?" Doubtfully, his captain frowned and Jean nodded almost violently.   
"I... don't feel it," he lied, and basically, it didn't hurt him as much as many other things that had been drilled into his body.   
"Really?" 

The nodding was easier for him, Jean found, and he was rewarded almost instantly by Knox breaking away from him after another long second of staring and walking around the car. With a bashful smile the blonde boy dropped into the driver's seat and rammed the key into the lock. After two attempts, the monster jumped on and Jean hurried to close the door, which was more difficult than he first thought. But that was nothing compared to his inability to fasten his seatbelt with shaky hands.   
It took him four attempts, under Knox's watchful eye, to get the metal pin into the holder provided and to let the belt snap into place. 

"Let's go then," Knox grinned again with his everlasting smile, which Jean believed less and less from minute to minute, and drove off into the busy rush hour traffic. After countless lane changes, Jean wondered whether he would really be able to make it to the University of South California alive. 

The question of whether this really mattered dominated his thoughts as they finally took the exit. In the nest he had resolved to end all of this after his graduation. He would have achieved at least one thing in his life before he would put an end to his life and the hell it would bring him.   
He had temporarily given up that plan after Renee rescued him from Riko's clutches. In the sanctuary of Abby's house, for a brief period of time, he had dared not to think about it. But at least since it had become clear that they would sell him to USC, he had come up with another plan, far away from the nonsensical dreams that he might live. 

What was a college degree he couldn't use after his studies against another hell? What were more years of suffering in comparison to a quick end?

It was easy for him to weigh up and so Jean, had decided that he would give himself two months from the time he arrived in South California until he would put an end to it. Two months until they were probably so lax with their controls that he would have access to knives or sharp objects or not be monitored, controlled and locked up every minute oft he day. 

Two more months, and then all this would finally end.

~~**~~

Chapter 2

Jeremy really hoped that Jean wouldn’t see his blatant nervousness, not to mention the questions simmering beneath his thin already thin layer of self-control.   
In fact, those questions had been present ever since Coach Wymack had contacted Rhemann. His coach had then contacted him and they had discussed thoroughly the need of another backliner and even more than that. They had discussed whether they needed the best backliner in their league, who came from the team using questionable methods and playing brutal games and whose playing philosophy, as they all knew at first hand, was more than grim.

Jeremy had often played against Jean and had been stopped by the backliner from scoring in against his team. The opposing player had been a brute force of nature and had challenged Jeremy's ambition to break through his lines with every fight they had fought on the court. On more than one occasion Jeremy‘s reward for his efforts had been a crash with his ass on the ground after one the fights with the number three of the Ravens, just barely on the edge of legal play without being carded yellow or red for it.   
Apart from that, there had been no mentionable contact, so Jeremy's experience with Jean was limited to playing against him, meeting briefly at the handshaking after their games and at the banquets where he had dared to throw one or two looks in Jean’s direction.

The closed off, never smiling, dismissive and tense person he had seen there had definetly not stood in front of him in the airport terminal. The boy who had been standing in front of him had been pale and frightened, to the point of almost panicking when he had tried to save him from his murderous seat spring. The hood Jean had pulled deep into his face could not completely hide the injuries he had received in Evermore.

Kevin had superficially described these injuries and asked him to keep an eye on Jean. The shocking extent of the cruelty had prevented Jeremy from fully understanding what had been said to him. Kevin's request never to leave Jean alone because it was against everyything Jean had been taught in Evermore didn’t meet his approval one single bit, but Kevin's insistence that Jean would feel better with company than without was enough for Jeremy. For now.

Time would tell the rest. 

His plan to give Jean a warm welcome with his cheerfulness and to assure him that nobody would hurt him here evaporated the moment he saw the walking death on two legs, who came out of the terminal. According to the sour smell of vomit, there was a valid reason for Jean's delay, and Jeremy's cheerfulness had abruptly given way to a profound uncertainty about how he would not frighten Jean, where apparently his presence was already enough. 

It was obvious that Jean was afraid of him and that made Jeremy more than helpless. He would‘ve preferred to reassure Jean again and again that he would not hurt him and that the boy didn't have to worry. That he was safe here and nobody would hurt him, that Raven's methods were neither his style nor that of his team. Jeremy instinctively felt that he would scare Jean with such an admission and mentioning of his old team even more, so he concentrated on the everyday things that needed to be done.

Not killing them in Los Angeles traffic, for example. To get back safely to the USC. To go shopping with Jean, because the small bag the boy was carrying couldn't possibly hold all of the essentials he needed for his everyday life. He should show him the campus and everything Jean needed to know for his coming term and classes. And he had to clean up the chaos of their shared little student apartment, which he had left in the haste of leaving for the airport, now that he had a roommate again.

Jeremy groaned silently.

"What are your majors?" Jeremy asked when the unusual silence became too much for him and he saw his passenger flinching in the corner of his eye. He wasn’t sure if it had been the question or the volume of his words and Jeremy suspected the latter. Sometimes he had a tendency to turn up his volume right out of nervousness. It wasn’t much of a problem in Alvarez‘s and Laila’s presence, if anything it was a way to make himself heard. In the heavy silence of his car... Jeremy sighed.

"Economy and Economic Law," Jean replied after a moment of contemplation and Jeremy whistled appreciatively but more quietly this time.   
"This and Exy? How do you do that? Don’t you need to sleep?" he asked jokingly, glancing briefly at the backliner, whose bandaged hands had clenched into fists.   
"Evermore days have sixteen hours, eight for training and eight for study. That is sufficient for a degree."

At first, Jeremy believed that had been a joke, but that was quickly disillusioned by the complete lack of irony or sarcasm. Surprised, he gasped.  
"What about free time?"  
It was evident that Jean was unable to handle the question from his stormily furrowed brow and the obvious restlessness that made the boy next to Jeremy squirm in his seat.   
Jeremy came to a halt at a red light and smiled reassuringly at Jean - at least he hoped so. "Hey, it's okay. It was just a joke. You don't have to open up out to me if you don’t want to," Jeremy distracted Jean from the subject and grey eyes flitted from the floor of the car to the base of his neck. Jean himself remained silent.

"How many hours do USC days have?" Jean finally surprised him with a first, interested question. Jeremy nodded.   
"It depends. Our first training session in the morning will be from seven till nine o'clock. Afterwards we head to our courses. There are extra training hours every second afternoon. We don’t train on game weekends, otherwise we are on our court every second Saturday morning and afternoon. Aside from that there is plenty of free time and we can concentrate on our studies or parties. Depending on the party, the days are therefore shorter or longer."

The silence that reappeared between them was accompanied by Jean's incredulous look, which was definetly accompied surprised bewilderment.  
"Is it too much?" Jeremy asked, to elicit another reaction from Jean, and indeed. The stunnedness was a willing accomplice to break the iron silence of his passenger. In all its glory, it apparently made the other boy more open to further emotions that gave Jeremy a glimpse of the backliner sitting next to him. 

He hadn't expected the contemptuous snort, yet he welcomed it. 

"What?", he asked with a grin, and was actually rewarded by the sight of a pair of grey eyes that measured him for a second before their owner apparently changed his mind.   
"I will be able to fulfill my contract." There it was again, that strange formality that might have suited an official press event. Jeremy's smile softened.   
"First of all, I hope that you are going to enjoy your stay with us," he replied conciliatory, unintentionally and unknowingly ending the conversation until they drove into the parking lot of the dormitories. 

He felt that he had said something terribly bad, but honestly, Jeremy didn't have the courage to ask what it might have been. 

~~**~~

Jeans new, personal hell was a complete chaos of red and gold colours, flooded with light, completely jumbled and divided into a bedroom, a living room and a kitchen, which undoubtedly bore Knox's signature. Jean wasn‘t sure if he had ever seen such a lively apartment. Certainly not in Evermore. There everything had its place and nothing, absolutely nothing nonsensical or distracting could be found in the dark hallways of the underground dormitory without sunlight. 

Jean knew only too well why. Sunlight distracted the players from essential things: training, study and torture. Sunlight gave hope and hope was the root of weakness. Weakness was forbidden to them in their pursuit of perfection.   
Jean had cherished and locked up those rare moments when he could catch a glimpse of the sun so he could feed on it when everything black and dark was about to collapse upon him.

Now he was almost killed by sunlight. Like a vampire, he avoided every ray that could shine directly into his face. Like a snowman, he feared the heat that penetrated his clothing and chased away the inner cold that protected him from what was to come. The sun and the warmth that he had loved and longed for before so many years now became an object of hatred for him, a thing whose abundance was destructive and sadistic. 

Of course, he slept again in the captain's rooms, who would have easy access to him. The team captain's whore, it whispered spitefully inside him. Of course. You're not good for anything else, you worthless piece of property. Just the number three, it's not enough for anything better. Just be thankful we kept you alive so far. 

"Coach and I have decided that it would be best if you stayed with me so I can give you a complete college orientation tour and support you in the beginning. The USC can be a bit chaotic at times and it doesn't hurt to have someone at your side who already knows all the secrets of this wonderful college. Since I don't have a roommate at the moment, I thought it would be a good idea for you to move in with me...for the sake of simplicity. If you want to room somewhere else, we can arrange that too, but it would take some time," the boy at his side explained.

As if it made a difference whether Knox had direct access to him or whether he was waiting for him in the locker room or shower. Or torturing him in the basement where nobody would hear Jean screaming.   
Since the house was meant for the Trojans, it wouldn't matter if he lived in someone else's room. The team would already have been kept on track by the coach and captain, just as they had been urged to keep up appearances on the outside. They had won the Day Spirit Award eight times in a row and it was not because the team was undisciplined and couldn't promote themselves. 

Especially since it didn't matter where he spent the last weeks of his life.

Jean waited in silence for his next instructions, while Knox cleared his things out of the way with a smile and stacked them on a pile that was even more chaotic than before.   
"Sorry, I overslept this morning and put everything just out of the way. I promise this won't happen again. Would you like to unpack your stuff so we can see what you need and do some serious grocery shopping?"

Jean really hated the boy's words. Did he want to? No. He hadn't wanted to go to America to pay off debts his mother had incurred with the Moriyamas. He hadn't asked to play Exy to survive. He didn't want a single second of torture. But no one had ever cared about that before.   
Jean frowned. That wasn't entirely true. Renee cared. Renee asked about his will, his desires, his feelings. She didn’t belong to the line of his owners.

She owned his soul. 

His body might be passed around, but he had freely given his soul to her, his angel, his saviour. She had taken him out of Riko's clutches and seen him as a human being, as no one else had done for a long time. 

It had been a coincidence that he had turned his attention to her during one of the banquets, when Riko had dealt with Kevin and left him alone for a few moments. Drawn to her by colorful hair and her gentle smile, he had watched and studied her, drawing comparisons in his mind to her player personality and to the young woman standing on the other side of the room in an elegant, long dress. 

Infinity separated them and yet Renee had overcome it. Step by step she had come closer to him, unstoppable and determined. His usual hostility had not stopped her from starting a conversation with him. Word for word she had broken down his resistance and barriers and got him so far that he finally accepted the smartphone she gave him. Jean had resisted for a long time because he knew what the consequences would be if it was discovered. She had been more stubborn than him and finally he had found that damn thing in his coat. How it was possible for him to keep it secret from Riko was still a mystery, even now.

Renee had started to write him messages. Short texts, questions about his wellbeing, about unimportant things. Jean had initially refused to answer her just as he had refused to answer the mobile phone and had failed again.   
Her stubbornness had finally elicited a first answer from him. 

A second answer followed the first, then a third, fourth and finally he had sent her messages whenever he could. As it was on the day he had thought that he was going to die.

Help me. 

Two words he had written with already bleeding fingers and broken ribs, shortly after Riko had torn his hair out for the first time. Help me he had written, in the feverish assumption that she could actually manage to save him and keep him alive somehow. It had been no more than the cry of the little boy he had once been, begging his father and mother to help him when the Moriyamas' guards had prevented him from returning to France with them.

At that time Jean had not really believed that Renee would be able to rescue him, but she had taught him better. Like an avenging angel she came upon the Ravens and abducted him from Evermore. And how did he say thank you?   
By trying to escape from the nurse's house three times before Josten had told him that Riko was finally dead. By almost breaking her heart with his words of hate and anger, that she had no idea what she was talking about, that she didn't know who she was messing with and whether she really believed that she was doing him any good. 

The tears swimming in her eyes had been a terrible sight and he had vowed to never hurt her again. She had easily accepted his desperate apologies with her gentle smile, but at the same time had taken his promise that he would try to heal and that he would not return to the Ravens. Never again and under no circumstances.  
Jean had agreed to this, but only to see the smile return to her face and make amends for his guilt.

"Jean?"

Flinching he returned to the present. His heart beat quickened when he realized that he had not paid any attention to his captain. Jean swallowed. The time in the nurse's house had apparently reduced his discipline and his instinct for self-preservation to zero. Again, he had no choice but to respectfully lower his head, an apology on his lips, which came way too late and was stalled accordingly. 

"No! No, no, no, don't apologize," Knox interrupted him and the hand waving at the edge of his field of vision frightened Jean more than the other man's loud words did. He recoiled instinctively much to his captain’s obvious dismay. "You were lost in your thoughts and I didn't notice that. I'm so sorry!" 

Jean looked completely perplexed at his captain’s face just to be sure that what he had just heard really corresponded with what his brain was telling him. Why did Knox apologize to him? Was this a test? Jean tried rather helplessly to find an answer for that, but the blonde boy was already miles ahead of him. 

"You could unpack now and then we'll see what you need. Our coach gave me his credit card in case we need it."  
Knox grinned, but Jean didn't feel like grinning at all. Buying him new thing was just another debt he had to work off.   
"I've enough," he croaked, cursing his voice for not sounding as dismissive as he had planned. Showing weakness only opened the gates to new torture.   
The fact that his careful objection was wiped away as if it didn't even exist irritated Jean more than the raised eyebrow. 

"Blanket?" Knox asked and Jean painfully recalled that he had nothing like that. It was warm here and would probably stay warm for a while, so he didn't need it. It was enough if he covered himself with his jacket. Jean shook his head.  
"Pillow?" A pillow would be nice, but even that was an unnecessary expense. He could use his sweater for this. Again he denied.   
"Clothes?" He had clothes with him for two weeks, which he could wash if necessary. The nurse had given them to him as a gift because Renee had taken him out of the nest with nothing more than what he was wearing. None of his actual clothing was black and Jean had developed a cautious preference and love for the dark blue hooded sweater Renee had given him.

He wore it even now and really hoped that he would be allowed to keep it. When he looked at the Trojan’s colours, that hope faded quickly. Red and gold were diametrically opposed to the blue of his sweater. Perhaps Knox would agree that he could at least hide it in the wardrobe if he was not allowed to wear it. Or use it as a pillow.

"And, of course, food. I'm afraid I only have unhealthy stuff in the fridge right now, summer vacation and all. If there's anything else you'd like, we should definitely go shopping."  
Jean had seen the kitchen when he came in and had noticed that it had been used. What that meant in concrete terms only just dawned on him right now. In the nest they had eaten according to a strict athlete's diet plan. He had had neither the choice nor the responsibility to take care of his own food. The fact that he now had to take it into his own hands presented him with an almost impossible task, since he did not know how to prepare food himself.

To ask would reveal weakness that would be used against him.

"What do you like to eat?"  
Jean had hoped that this very question would not come up. There was no good answer to it, not for him.   
"The meal plan is sufficient," he replied, evoking confusion, which he did not understand.   
"This will be problematic. We have no meal plan," Knox said with the same confusing gesture of uncertainty. Or whatever the hand was doing in the back of Knox‘s neck there. "We'll eat in the dining hall if it's convenient, otherwise we'll cook ourselves. On weekends and vacations, usually the latter."

A disbelieving sound escaped Jean’s lips. How could the Trojans maintain their fitness when they were eating such a wrong and harmful diet, even not following a diet plan? To feed themselves was a lack of discipline that his Master would never have allowed him to have. Nor was eating unhealthy food.   
"I...", Jean began, searching for the right words that would meet Knox's demand for an answer and that would not ascribe to him any more weakness than he already had. He didn't get very far when his cell phone rang and his head jerked towards the sound.

Horrified, Jean stared at his bag in which the phone was hidden in a crease at the bottom, hoping that it would not be taken from him. He could bury that hope now, he knew that, and only because he hadn't thought of turning off the sound or turning off the entire mobile phone.   
So it was only fitting that it was Renee, of all people, who was calling him. Probably to ask if he had arrived safely and how he was doing ins Los Angeles. Angry at himself, Jean stared at his bag and listened to the light tone, his hands clenched to painful fists. 

"Your phone is ringing," his captain said not helpfully at all behind him and Jean lowered his head. He knew it was time to apologize for having smuggled something in that he was not allowed to have. He knew that he should show remorse but he did not find the strength to do so, not after he had already had serious problems with the missing meal plan. Surrenderingly he stepped out and opened the zipper. With trembling fingers he took out the smartphone and turned to Knox who measured him questioningly.

"Aren't you going to answer it?" his captain asked, pointing to the small device between them.   
"May I?" Jean asked quietly and Jeremy smiled.   
"Of course. Sorry to keep you from answering your phone, I'll be in the next room if you need me. Have fun!" Before Jean could really apologize, Knox had left the bedroom and closed the door behind him. Jean stared stunned after him before he hastily touched the sign for accept and pushed it to the right as Renee had shown him.   
He pressed the phone to his ear. "Hello?" he asked, hoping that Renee was still there.  
"Hello Jean," he heard her smile even from a distance and closed his eyes. He wished he could still be with her. If only he could hide near behind forever and feed on her gentleness and strength. "How are you?"

Jean wondered whether it was worth lying to her or whether she would not see through it immediately. He came to the conclusion that she knew him too well for him to get away with it.   
"Not good," he whispered truthfully.  
"Why?" The softness in her voice masked her iron demand for honesty. He owed her so much, how could he not give in to it?  
"It's...different," he agreed on what he could safely say when Knox listened from the other side of the door.   
"Hotter?"  
"Yes."  
"How was the flight?"  
"Okay.“  
"And was Jeremy there to pick you up?“  
"Yeah. I'm at the apartment building now.“  
"What's it like?“

As Renee had shown him, Jean switched the audio call to a video call. It took a few seconds, then the two-way connection was established and he saw her and her reassuring smile.   
"Hey, Mr. Big."  
He didn't say anything back, esspecially not to that ridiculous nickname she had given him, but he didn't have to. Apparently, she saw everything she had to know in his eyes and nodded calmly.   
"Go ahead, show me your room. I want to know if it's prettier than my own."  
Jean was aware that Renee was using his indoctrination to listen to orders to get her way. It was no big deal, on the contrary. Obediently, he turned the phone around and filmed the chaotic bedroom and the bed he would inhabit. Red and gold were the colours that dominated the room and in all their glory they hurt his eyes. The chaos of personal belongings, all of which would give a clue to the boy waiting outside, caused Jean a restlessness he didn't really understand. 

After he had finished the tour, he turned the mobile phone back to himself. It was nice to see Renee one last time. She sighed heavily.  
"Jean, what's wrong?"  
"He'll take it away," Jean whispered so softly, that hopefully Knox wouldn't hear it. Renee frowned. She, too, lowered her volume.   
"What do you mean?"  
"Knox. He'll take my phone away."

Riko would have done it, Jean knew that. He had not been allowed anything to distract him from his tasks as a player. He had hidden it from Riko like a precious treasure. The fact that Knox now knew two hours after his arrival that such a device was available to Jean was a disaster, even if Renee didn't see it that way. Gently and forbearingly she smiled.   
"No, Jean, he will not. He isn‘t Riko."  
Jean remained silent. They had already talked about the captain of the Trojans and had both realized that they didn't really know him. Only from Days' stories, which were one-sidedly influenced. What was heard about Knox was entirely positive, but Jean didn't believe it. Not a single bit. 

She sighed. "I know you don't believe me, but give him a chance. He won't do it."  
Jean pursed his lips brusquely and glanced at the door that stood between him and the Trojan. A small but effective obstacle. Almost hastily, he turned back to Renee.   
"They cook themselves and eat in the dining hall. He asked me what my favourite food is." His small image in the upper right-hand corner of the screen looked as stunned and frightened as Jean felt. Helplessly he stared at Renee, who sighed again, deeper than before. 

"Would you like me to send you recipes that you can recook?"  
Jean shook his head miserably. "I don't know how to get to a grocery store and I don't know how to look for the food that belongs to the recipe."  
"You could ask Jeremy."  
Mutely, Jean shook his head and mauled his lower lip between his teeth, as he always did when he needed distraction. "I can't do that."  
Renee was about to say something, but apparently she changed her mind at the last moment. "It will get better, Jean Moreau. Trust me. Jeremy is a good man and a good captain. He will treat you right."

Jean trusted Renee blindly, that was not the issue. Who he didn't trust were other people. Men especially. Captains even less so, especially not those who held his contract in their hands.   
But as much as he trusted Renee... why should he discuss with her? She knew nothing about the two months, and he wasn’t going to tell her. No one who was not involved knew, so no one could stop him. He would make it easier on himself if he nodded now and postponed the subject indefinitely. He knew that Knox would eventually drop his mask. He knew there was nothing good in an open smile like this. He knew he would bleed again. 

It was only two months.

Jean nodded. "Okay. I'll try," he lied, hoping convincingly enough that Renee perceived his words as hesitant, not as pretentious. She did him the favor of not saying anything, even though her eyes told him otherwise. "I have to go, he's probably waiting, and I already made him wait at the airport."   
She saw through that too with playful ease. "Of course, Mr. Big. Go to him and get back to me as soon as it’s possible. Okay?"  
"Okay."

As always, when they phoned or sent messages back and forth, she showed him the victory sign and, as always, he raised his eyebrows in all that childish joy. He silently disconnected and stared at his now mute cell phone before turning to face the door. Taking a deep breath, Jean put the phone in the pocket of his jeans and pressed down the handle.

Not far from him, Knox stood, bent over a table with a puzzle, which Jean had first noticed with a quick glance. He had not looked at it more closely and now he wished that he would have done that. A small number of pieces had already been put together, while the vast majority were still scattered unruly around the motif, which was a picture of Day.   
As it seemed, today was the day of disbelief and Jean had to pull himself together with an iron will he had not thought he would have not to sweep the puzzle off the table. 

What he could not suppress was the aborted snort that drew Knox's attention to him. Abruptly the other boy turned around and then pointed at the corpus delicti with a bashful smile.

"This was a gift from Alvarez and I thought I'd get it started when you got here, so you wouldn't feel so far from home when you got it here... if only as a puzzle."

Jean knew that agreeing and letting it go would be a wise choice. It would be better for him. But the reasoning, mixed with the joyful hope and expectation he saw in the face of his captain, allowed nothing but unbridled disbelief, which he knew was clearly written on his face. He couldn't believe how wrong Knox was with his assumption, and involuntarily he wondered what Wymack and Day had actually told the Trojans.

"I..." Jean looked for words that wouldn't come to him. His gaze fell back on the puzzle, rather on the pieces that divided Day in his Exy uniform into many small pieces. Actually, it was highly ironic, because just as torn and incomplete as the puzzle was in front of him, was the original himself. 

"Hey, what about erasing your homesickness a little by getting you acquainted with everything important here in this apartment and on campus and then we'll go shopping?" Knox asked and Jean silently nodded. He wanted to get out, because he didn't want to be in the same room as Day, even if it was just with a ridiculous puzzle.

~~**~~

Chapter 3

To be told or to experience something first hand were two different things, as Jeremy now bitterly realized.

He had his own personal shadow, who was a neck hair-raising yard behind him and who refused to walk beside or even in front of him. In addition to that Jean only replied to directly asked questions and all further attempts at small talk were rigorously ignored by the ex-Raven. During Jeremy’s sightseeing tour of their house and campus this had been less of a problem than now, as they were at the nearest larger grocery store.

Jean didn’t took his eyes off him which made Jeremy even more nervous than he had been on their way from LAX to USC. If his shadow had at least talked about what he would like to eat and drink, he probably would fare better. But to be confronted with a wall of silence that was even harder to break than any defensive line the Ravens had ever built in their games against the Trojans was more than everything frustrating. 

Jeremy sighed. Not for the first time since they had entered the store and – most likely – not for the last. 

They stood at the fruit and vegetable aisle and there was only silent denial on the pale face half hidden by the dark blue hood of Jean’s sweater.   
"Well," Jeremy was encouraging himself more than it really served to get Jean's attention. "Any requests for dinner tonight?"   
The other boy's hostile body language and the silent shake of the head were probably to prevent him from asking any further questions, but desperation fueled Jeremy’s stubborn character treat more than fear.

"Is there anything you don't like to eat?"  
"No."  
Jeremy smiled tentatively. "Then would you like me to surprise you?"   
There it was again, the uncertainty he had seen at the airport and he wondered if it was because of his playful tone or the question itself.   
"You cook your own food?" Jean apparently surprised himself with his mouth spilling out questions, and Jeremy enjoyed the sight of the gray eyes measuring him. He still wondered about the question, because hadn't he told Jean just a few hours ago that they had to cook for themselves? He did….as far as he remembered.   
"Well, seems that I have no other choice. The alternative would be frozen pizza and as I said, the dining hall is closed on weekends. Can you cook?"  
"No." The denial was almost silent, certainly repressed and unsure. Jeremy understood. Slowly and much too late, but finally, he understood. 

The meal plan. The more than restrained answers.

"Have you ever stood in front of a stove?"  
Jean frowned. "Yes. In the nurse's home."  
"Did you cook or helped to cook?"  
"Neither."  
A surprised sound left Jeremy. "But you know what you like?"  
There it was again, the completly neutral expression on Jean’s face. "I have no preferences."  
Jeremy frowned. "Come on, everybody has preferences. Sweet, sour, salty, spicy, fat?"  
"No."  
"Your favorite ice cream?"  
"No."  
"Cake?"  
"No."  
"Pizza?

Silence. 

Jeremy groaned and collapsed in near agony, his hands stretched out towards his new backliner, who seriously tried to make him believe that he had no love for the really good sides of life and absolutely no preferences.   
"Seriously?", he emphasized the first syllable in his best, tearful voice and looked up at Jean, who, tall and broad-shouldered as he was, towered over him. "Don't lie to me, this can't be real!"

Jean didn’t deign to answer his complaints, so Jeremy decided it was time to use his secret weapon and trained his expression to big eyes and a sadly contorted mouth. "Come on, tell me, what do you like?"  
"Silence." The word escaped Jean annoyed and unfiltered, and Jeremy realized that this was the most honest and spontaneous emotion he had encountered so far. He grinned and congratulated himself for having coaxed the other boy out of his muteness, especially since the answer had something akin to biting humor. 

And he appreciated humour. Very much. Jeremy raised his eyebrows.  
"Hrmph. Okay. Look, let’s make a deal. I'll stop bugging you and cook us something delicious and in return you pick out a pillow, a blanket, sheets, duvet covers and toiletries. How about that?"

Jean was not at all convinced by the logic of that particular deal, as Jeremy could clearly see. The boy weighed up the pros and cons internally, furrowing his brows.   
"I have no money. I can't refund it in the near future," Jean finally replied so quietly that Jeremy had trouble understanding the mumbled words. When he did, the pity that came over him brutally and unrestrained almost broke his heart.   
"Oh, God, Jean. You don't have to pay for any of this. The basic equipment is on our Coachs card, after all you are part of the team now. As soon as your scholarship stuff is done, you'll pay for your own stuff, but as long as the administration is snailing around, all your expenses are on his card. Don't worry about that. It's all taken care of, it really is."

Jean seemed to scrutinize every word he had just said. He frowned under his hood and Jeremy waited patiently for him to come to a conclusion. "Does he want anything in return?" Jean finally asked and the strange undertone in that question kept Jeremy from approaching an answer with biting humor, as he would have done with Alvarez or Laila. Something about the question struck him as other than funny, and so he shrugged his shoulders more helplessly than anything else. 

"No? Coach cares about his players. And he knows that it's certainly not easy for you to change colleges in the middle of the year. He wants to make it a little easier for you. Don’t worry about it."  
As anxious as he was to create calm and serenity with his words, Jean couldn't seem to comprehend them. At least Jeremy interpreted the slightly tilted head as a mute question. 

"Do you want something in return?"  
Jeremy sighed. "No, Jean.“ He paused. „Although... yes. Yes, yes, I do want something. I want you to choose the most comfortable pillow and the snuggliest blanket and sheets you can find. And I want you to tell me if you don't like something I've cooked and why you don't like it. This is the quid pro quo I would like."

Jean looked at him as if he had lost his mind, and for the most part, that look resembled the one his new team member had been giving the Kevin Day puzzle. Completely incomprehensible, barely disguised bewilderment. Jeremy grinned and streched out his hand. Carefully and slowly this time, because he had learned, after all.   
"Deal?"  
It took some time for Jean to analyse Jeremy‘s gesture and his motives before he apparently came to a conclusion. As he did, Jean slowly raised his right hand, always ready to pull it back immediately. Gently squeezing the still bandaged fingers, Jeremy smiled his best, most assuring smile. 

Reluctanly he released the cold but clammy fingers and nodded back to the grocery store. "Pillows and blankets?" 

Jean turned to the pointed direction, and if Jeremy wasn't very much mistaken, the other boy had actually rolled his eyes. 

~~**~~

The sun cast its first tentative rays through the small bathroom window and shone in a warm red Jean had never seen before. For a moment he enjoyed the surreal peace of this moment and allowed himself to imagine what it would have been like if he could have seen such sunrises every day. Would he have become a different person from the one he was now? How would he be if every good feeling hadn‘t been beaten, tortured and raped out of him? Would he have had friends, a person he loved? Would he have lived in Marseilles, gone to university, played Exy at all? 

Jean didn't know and the fresh morning light that promised hope gave way to a deep hopelessness that made it clear to him that he would never have any of this. Not even the apparent friendliness of his new captain, who had cooked him food, changed that. Knox had bought him things that Jean had never wanted to accept. But he had not been able to refuse without becoming unkind or even hostile. He could not afford that, not to Knox. So he had stood there silently while his captain had loaded everything into the car that was supposed to make his stay here more pleasant. 

As if. 

While Jean had unpacked and put the things away, Knox had made dinner for both of them and had served him something that certainly was the paramount of calories. Jean's stomach had cramped up in frightened anticipation before the first bite, but somehow he had managed to eat the meal in front of him. Even though he couldn't quite remember how he had managed to cope with the amount of pasta, cheese, breaded meat, mozzarella and parmesan.  
This went against everything he had ever eaten in Evermore and Jean still swallowed at the thought of how it became more and more in his mouth.

That's not the only reason he spent the night awake. He had spent the quiet, dark hours of the night sitting under his blanket with his back to the head of the bed, taking turns watching Knox and the night sky. Apparently the talkative captain of the Trojans couldn't keep still even in his sleep, as much as he turned around every few minutes, squeezing his pillow, muttering incomprehensible words, before he sighed and went to deep sleep again. 

After scaring the hell out of Jean for the first time, he had gradually gotten used to the procedure and had let himself be lulled by the ever-recurring rhythm. That and the stars, which slowly and unwaveringly drew him into their spell. 

So on the first night Knox had not yet forced himself upon him but that didn't change anything about the condoms Jean had seen when he had put his things away in the bathroom. They were right on top of Knox‘s dresser in the bathroom, omnipresent and unambiguous. Jean knew that. Riko had also equipped the players he had sent to his bed with protection. He had forbidden to infect Jean with an illness that could make him unusable. So what else would the condoms be for?

When the light in the room changed from a deep black to a soft grey, Jean got up and went into the bathroom to at least have a door to lock between himself and Knox. Not that he wouldn't open it immediately if his captain ordered him to, but it was good to know that he still had the opportunity to keeping it closed. 

Jean let his eyes wander over the toiletries he had bought, which now all seemed to belong to him because he had chosen them. Less because he liked the scent, but more because there was nothing, absolutely nothing black on them. Now that Riko was dead, he no longer wanted to be bound by the customs of Evermore. For the remaining weeks of his life Jean wanted to have the colours around him that he liked - if he was allowed to. Apparently he was, because the shower gel had a deep shade of blue that resembled that of his sweater. Knox hadn't objected to his choice and had only given him one of his wide smiles. The shampoo was light blue, the toothpaste white and turquoise, even the sunscreen had equal amounts of green and blue. 

Sunscreen.

It had taken Jean a moment to understand what was on the bottle Knox had put in his hand with a heavy nod. In all his years at Evermore, he hadn't needed that. Now it seemed to be the most important thing and without this particular bottle he would have been lost here in South California. At least that was, what Knox told him, whose eyes were too suspicious of his hood, sweater and pale face.

Sunscreen meant that Knox wouldn't lock him in the basement, which was accessible to everyone and was apparently a mixture of a laundry, hobby, bicycle storage, storage and party room. Sunscreen meant that his world would not be limited to this colorful, chaotic apartment and the Exy Court, but apparently also to the burning midday sun outside and crowded grocery stores whose questionable music still burned in his ears. 

Despite Renee's warning of what would await him, Jean hadn't even begun to understand what it would really mean. Now, after the first day, the taste of change lay stale and bitter on his tongue, making him feel lonelier than ever before. Violence and humiliation were things that had accompanied him over the last few years but they were familiar to him and a little voice inside him wished for both and the cold, violent security of Evermore back where he had found his way. 

Here he stood before a nothingness, a multitude of impressions of people and places he had never seen before and whose lives passed by without them even looking at him or noticing him standing outside and watching them. At some point, years ago, he had had the desire to live his life among them, to be part of something, and now? Now he watched from the outside and understood each time anew that he did not play any role at all. He was invisible, useless and unwanted. In the worst case, a burden to be broken. 

That was nothing new for him. His Master and Riko had drilled it into him over and over again, until he had understood and internalized it. But his non-existence in Evermore was different from his non-existence here. In Evermore he had not seen the world as it was for others. Here a short and terrible visit to the grocery store had been enough to make him understand what he was not allowed to do. What he had missed all these years.  
Jean pushed the thought aside. Two more months and it would be finally over. Then the world would go on spinning without him and everything would be fine. Until then...

Slowly he pulled his smartphone out and stared at the last message from Renee, which he had not yet answered. ~Sleep well~, it said, peppered with smileys, the meaning of which Jean had learned bit by bit from her.   
Quietly he opened the window and held the camera towards the sunrise, taking a picture that didn't do justice to the real rays of light. He hoped that it would be enough to serve as a good morning.  
She answered him almost immediately.  
~How are you?~  
Jean’s answer took a little longer as he was still unaccustomed to the use of this particular phone. ~I feel like I have eaten a whole loaf of cheese.~   
~What…?~  
~Knox made dinner yesterday.~  
~What did he cook?~  
~Poison.~

Jean receiced a ton of smileys for his message. Apparently, it was amusing and entertaining, even if he hadn’t meant it to be. Knox‘s food had been poison for his body and his athlete's diet, especially because of his missed training for the last few months. In the long run this would probably cause problems with the contract Josten had negotiated with the main branch of the Moriyama clan. If he was kicked off a team because he was no longer able to hold his position well, they would get rid of him, he was sure of that. A reminder to all who would step out of line. 

~You're up early,~ Renee pulled him from his deep and dark thoughts. Jean was involuntary glad for that.  
~I wasn't asleep. You are up early, too.~  
~I'm going for a run in a minute. Nice sunrise, by the way. I do envy you for that.~  
Jean frowned. Renee envied him for a sunrise? She certainly had seen more and better sunrises than him.   
~I'd like to go for a run again, too.~  
~Not yet, Jean, you know that. Are your injuries healing properly?~   
Jean rolled his eyes. Of course she had to ask that. She and the nurse had condemned him to cure his injuries until they were completely healed. Any objection on his part, with which he had explained to them that he was able to move and participate in training even with serious injuries, had been refuted. 

~They are healing~, he sent to her with an annoyed smiley, which only provoked a laugh from her.   
~Are the wound dressings working?~  
Jean frankly didn’t know. He hadn’t tried to change them. It had to work, even those on his back. Somehow he would be able to change them without Knox knowing.

~Then let's get out of here. Toss Jeremy out of his bed and take him for a little, the injuries not straining ride.~  
She was teasing him, Jean knew it. There's no way he would ever dare such an insolence. Or even think about leaving the apartment alone. He had never been alone since his parents left him in that hellhole called Evermore. Always in pairs. That which he hated the most, he could least of all ignore, the time with the Foxes had shown him that very clearly. 

Being alone was his personal hell but at the same time he was pathetically grateful for and disgusted by the presence of the Trojan in the other room, in the same way as he was disgusted with himself that he needed this help.   
Renee knew this because after his second escape attempt, he had told her everything that had happened in a moment of self-destructive honesty. Was he trying to scare her off? For sure. He had been so sure he achieved that. Destroy her trust and hope in him, so that she let him go out of pure hate and anger because she was disgusted by him.   
She hadn’t been and Jean had spent the next hours crying in her arms like a little child, curled up as best he could, defenceless against possible attacks that didn't come.

That never came. Not even by Josten, as much as it would have been deserved. Minyard, on the other hand…

~The sun doesn’t do you any good, your suggestions are unrealistic,~ he wrote back and was rewarded with a kissing smiley that made him snort.   
~Shall I call Jeremy für you?~ the monster on the othr side of this country asked diabolically grinning, and Jean hurried up with an answer, anxiously listening to whether his captain's phone was ringing.  
~No! No, please, don‘t!~  
~Only because it's you,~ redemption came almost instantly and Jean growled. With a relieved sigh, he leaned his forehead against the cool tiles oft he wall. Even now the room temperature was actually too warm for him to keep his sweater on. That wouldn't certainly get any better during the day, and he only had a long-sleeved shirt with him that would cover the bandages and plasters. If he hurried, he would be able to change and shower before Knox woke up.   
~Go for a run, girl~ Jean ended their conversation with a smiley face with a sniffing nose and in return he received a middle finger and a heart...and of course her signature victory sign.

Jean rolled his eyes and quietly turned the key in the lock. Just as carefully he opened the door and peered into the quiet bedroom. Knox had turned back to to the room and was now sleeping with his arm hanging out of the bed, his fingers unconsciously twitching. In years of practice, Jean crept past him to his closet and opened the door. He had carefully folded his few things and stacked them on top of each other so he could easily and quickly take them out of the closet when he needed them. Like now. He grabbed for his shirt, the underwear and the trousers, before closing the wardrobe again. Jean turned around and faced Knox…who was widely awake.

Jean flinched so violently that he almost dropped his clothes. 

His captain’s eyes were open and he blinked. Wide awake he sat up and yawned less silently.   
"Am I too late? What time is it? It's still half dark outside...isn’t it?", his captain muttered in a drowsy, confused voice and rubbed his eyes. He stared out of the window before coming back to Jean and putting him in the focus of his attention. 

Jean found himself unable to move an inch, especially since his thoughts now whispered helpfully to him, that he was not wearing the hood or the thin beanie – a gift from Renee - and his hair could be seen in all its glory.

The full, torn, pulled out glory.

Knox's gaze told him exactly that at that very moment when his captain became awake enough to realize what exactly he was seeing.

~~**~~

Chapter 4

"Jean...?"

Jean hadn't heard so much concern in a single voice since Renee dragged him from the nest, calling him as he lay on the cold hard ground of the Raven’s Court. Hearing it now in a drowsy and confused way hurt him so much that it distracted Jean from the rising panic that was whispering in his ear to leave this room immediately. His captain's presence was not safe, not when he had seen his hair and probably thought of tearing out the rest that had remained. 

Despite his thoughts and fears Jean remained frozen on his spot, his clothes a dead weight on his arm. He couldn’t do little more than to stare into Knox's eyes. It was rude and inappropriate, but he had to know what came next. He had to know what the other boy was going to do to protect himself against it. 

"Oh God..."

With horror Jean saw that Knox folded his blanket back and put his legs on the floor, ready to get up. Jean stared at the boxer-clad thighs which in no way made the situation any better. Knox didn't make any effort to improve it either when he stood up and took a single step towards him. Afraid Jean stumbled back and hit his back against the cupboard, drilling its handle right into the still-healing wound that Riko had inflicted on him with his knife. As much as Jean was used to the pain, it surprised him right now. Unintentionally he groaned and flinched. 

It made Knox stop in his movements. 

"Jean, your…your hair. Your head…You have to go see a doctor." Words came to his overwrought ears which he hadn't expected one second. A doctor? For his hair? Confused, Jean looked at his captain, who stood before him with helplessly open hands and who could not take his eyes off the catastrophe that was his hair.   
"It's healing," Jean pressed out before Knox could get any more false ideas. "It's been taken care of. In the nurse's house. After...after Evermore."   
Clumsily and hastiliy the words that were so important escaped his lips and Jean hoped that it would be enough. 

It was, though it did not diminish the horror on Knox‘s face. "After... Evermore?", his captain echoed slowly and realisation dawned on him. Whoever had briefed Knox about Jean had apparently left out essential details, most importantly why he had been abducted from his old team in the first place. Jean swallowed hard. He couldn't explain it. He could not utter the words that described what Riko had done to him. 

"It doesn't matter," Jean mumbled, hoping that Knox would actually stop bothering him with his questions, looks and worries. He just wanted to shower and change his clothes in peace. 

For a moment it looked as if Knox wanted to discuss his words. For a moment the blonde boy opened his mouth, held it open and frowned. But then the crease on his forehead smoothed out and he closed his lips. He smiled again his friendly smile that Jean would have loved to slap off his face at that moment because it was so undeserved. There was nothing about this situation to smile about.

Absolutely Nothing.

"Okay." A simple word that could mean everything and nothing. No, nothing was okay, Jean thought resentfully.   
"May I use the bathroom?" he asked and Jeremy nodded thoughtfully. 

Relieved that he had gotten away with it unscathed this time, Jean fled into the small room and dedicated himself to the gruelling task of undressing, taking a shower, washing his hair and changing the plasters. What he hated the most of these actually simple tasks he couldn't say.

~~**~~

Out of the corner of his eye Jeremy watched his new roommate sitting at the kitchen counter and staring at his plate. There was still a small rest of the scrambled eggs which Jeremy had prepared for both of them. The pot of coffee that stood next to Jean hadn't been touched yet, even if Jean’s eyes darted to it every now and then. Something in his posture and expression told Jeremy that Jean wouldn't touch it until he offered him some, and that fit seamlessly into a line of impressions that sent cold shivers down his spine. 

Jean had been so afraid of him this morning that he had flinched away from him. With his hair torn out in large places and yesterday's attitude Jeremy inevitably wondered what had happened to trigger the transfer of the so devotedly well-known number three. He was sure that it weren't just internal quarrels and Jeremy was tempted to pick up his cell phone and write Kevin who apparently had only provided him with the barest necessities. 

Like the fact that Jean couldn't be alone. 

That itself was a stark contrast to the boy sitting silently behind him. Did the need for a partner provoked also fear of the very person, like a paradoxical, toxic bond that Jean had had apparently also had with Riko? Jeremy took a deep breath and turned around.  
"Why are you afraid of me, Jean?" he asked clumsily and somewhat a little bit too loudly which earned him a surprised glare of grey eyes. Jean was wearing a beanie, a light and also grey thing that matched his eyes and highlighted his sharply contoured features. It made him outrageously attractive, even with the pale skin, the deep rings under the eyes and the recently healed cuts on his face. 

Jeremy received no answer to his question, only what he had already seen before in the dawn of today‘s morning: emerging panic, based alone on his question. Jeremy didn't know why and it tore at his nerves.  
"Listen Jean, if I scare you with anything, please tell me. I don't want you to be afraid of me. I would like to make this good for you. After... whatever happened in Evermore." Jeremy paused for a moment, let his words sink in. "And whatever that happened there, you can always talk to me if you need someone to listen."

Jean's expression said he could have spoken Chinese just as well, it would have met the same understanding. Jeremy could almost see the questions piling up behind his forehead, the refusal to let those pass the narrow lips as well.   
Patience was not Jeremy's strong trait, nor was silence, but his instinct told him to train both and give Jean all the time he needed for an answer. Seconds passed, turning into minutes. Endless long, agonizing minutes in which they just stared at each other, blinking and remaining silent. If Jean hadn't stared at him persistently, Jeremy would have thought he was being ignored. 

He tried a third time. "Please, Jean, be honest with me."

The other boy lowered his gaze and clasped his hands in his lap.   
"You are the captain," Jean whispered as if that would explain everything. Jeremy tilted his head tot he side.   
"That‘s correct."  
"You and Coach Rhemann own the team."  
Jeremy frowned at that, but he remained silent now that Jean had apparently decided to talk to him.   
"Your way of giving orders is very different from Rikos. I don't know how to follow them if you formulate them like suggestions."

The former Raven's words echoed like thunder through the silent kitchen and Jeremy felt heat rising inside him. Feverishly he tried to remember when he had given orders and came to no consistent answer. Why should he? They were equal and their coach treated them with respect.   
No one was above anyone else. 

"Were Riko and Coach Moriyama giving you orders at Evermore?" he asked softly and Jean nodded.   
"Did they own the team?" Again Jean affirmed that.   
"What was it like?"  
"They said what had to be done and handed out appropriate punishments for misconduct."  
"Like running extra laps?" It was a test balloon, because Jeremy already suspected that the punishments at Evermore were far worse than this. Far far worse.   
"Something like that."  
"Your hair…was that also a punishment?"

Jean nodded and it instantly broke Jeremy's heart. That wasn't punishment. That was fucking torture. Nobody ever had the right to commit such an atrocity. "Jean, this is assault. They had no right to do that to you."  
Jean shook his head. "Yes, he did. Riko owns…owned me. Just as you own me now."

The devoted, bitter self-confidence with which Jean said monstrosities was staggering. Wordlessly and horrified, Jeremy stared into the profile of his new backliner and realized in that moment that he didn't even know the tip of the iceberg that Evermore really was. No one should own another human being, it was simply impossible. It was perverse and in no way was that what USC stood for. Ever. 

Slowly Jeremy moved away from the sideboard and much, much more slowly he came to Jean. He saw from the rising tension that the other boy was just waiting for violence and Jeremy began to understand why. However, he would never ever fulfill the boy's expectations. In slow motion, he got down on his knees, a position that inevitably made him smaller than Jean who was sitting on the high bar stool. He could have a good look into the lowered face from here and put his hand on Jean‘s with caution, whose fingers clawed into his thigh. They twitched, but did not elude his light grip. 

Jeremy cleared his throat. "I don’t own you. You don't belong to our coach or the team. You're part of our team. I swear to you that no one here will hurt you or physically assault you, Jean. You have a right to be unharmed, just like everyone else. You have a right to make your own choices, to have your own desires. No one here will give you orders and punish you if you don't do something the way the coach or I doing it. We discuss, we don't punish."

Jean didn't look at him, but Jeremy knew his words had been heard. It broke him up inside just a little bit more when he saw the broad shoulders tremble, even though he reeled back in shock the next second when he saw that it was amusement that caused the shivers. Jean laughed, but it was not a happy sound that left his lips. He lifted his gaze and Jeremy met ice-cold, hateful eyes that burned into him in all their intensity.

"Rarely heard such bullshit," Jean hissed and pulled his hand away. He stood up abruptly and knocked over the barstool. With derisive mockery he looked down on Jeremy. "Cut your humanistic bullshit. I know you're lying, you don't have to pretend with me."  
Jeremy stared at Jean, unable to react or respond to the baleful words. He wanted to contradict, but didn't know how to go against this conviction, this indoctrination that the Ravens had apparently left in the boy. 

Under Jean's burning gaze, Jeremy stood up and crossed his arms. "Why are you here then, if you believe that?" he asked with an careful calm and Jean hissed contemptuously.  
"Because I have no choice."  
Was it really like that? Did he feel forced? Did he not even want to be here? Had he been forced? That would explain a lot, even if much of it eluded Jeremy's understanding. 

Without malice, he pointed behind him. "It’s your choice. You're free to leave if you don't want to be here. There’s the door. I won't stop you, and I don't want you to be in any way unhappy with the decision to play fort he Trojans."

He must have said something absolutely despicable, the way Jean barbed his teeth like a rabid animal and took a step towards him. Involuntarily, Jeremy backed away from him. At this moment he became painfully aware of how much bigger the other boy was and how much more experience he must have had with violence. Jeremy hadnÄt and sometimes the violence, as it was practiced in their sport, was too much for him. He did not want to fight with anyone aside from their plays. He also did not want to be beaten. At the moment his chances of exactly that were apparently not good and with painful fear he became aware that they were completely alone in the house. 

"Jean, please stop. You're scaring me," he pressed out, and more than anything else it made Jean‘s aggression fade away. The broad shoulders lowered and the rigid, hateful look became calmer, though no less hostile. But it was still too much for Jeremy to return to business as usual.

Looking at Jean, he stepped back into the hall and slipped into his sandals. Just as blindly, he reached for the car and apartment keys that were in the bowl his mother had given him as he had moved to L.A..   
"I'll come back...later...I have to…", he said as unsure as he felt, and opened the door. He left the apartment and hastily closed the door behind him, walking then running down the stairs to his car. Only when he started the car and left the campus, he became calmer, less anxious. 

As he made his way through the morning traffic towards Del Rey Lagoon and turned the music up loud, he was slowly able to shake off the last threads of fear that had held him in their vice-like grip. As he parked his car, walked down to the beach, and looked out into the morning sunshine, Jeremy was finally able to look back on the whole encounter without fear. 

He was now able to focus on the questions that were most important right now. The question whether Jean was a danger to his team had top priority. If so, the ex-Raven would fly back to Palmetto before he had had his first training with the Trojans. No one would make a pass at his team and he would certainly not tolerate Raven methods and intimidation attempts towards the Trojans.   
Jeremy grabbed one of the small pebbles and threw it into the floods that were breaking on the shore not far from him. Frustrated, he sat down on the warm sand.

If he honestly admitted it to himself, the whole mess made him angry. Kevin had called him and asked him to help him. He had described the situation briefly and succinctly, apparently leaving out most of the important details, thus plunging Jeremy into problems he couldn’t have foreseen. Problem solving was Jeremy's strength, always had been, but even he had limits. When things escalated like this on the second day of their shared living, he wasn’t sure about their common future. 

Jeremy sight and pulled out his cell phone. He unlocked it and with clenched teeth he called Kevin. It rang four times until the other striker picked up and Jeremy switched to a video call.   
"Hey," he greeted and saw Kevin's face less than ten seconds later.   
"Hey, Jer!"  
Jeremy smiled a little forced. "You guys doing good? "  
"Terrible training morals as usual. You?"  
"No one's been around to train yet.“

This made Kevin frown, as Jeremy knew it would. He liked to provoke it. Kevin was a very simple and focused mind in that respect. Exy was his everything and always came first and God help the person who didn't see it his way. How he had managed to get so far up Kevin's ranking list with his attitude was still a mystery to Jeremy. Probably ever would be.   
"Is that why you're sitting on the beach lazing around instead of keeping fit with drills?"  
Jeremy snorted and raised his eyebrow.   
"Is Jean with you?" Kevin asked after a few seconds of silence and Jeremy shook his head. Finally, he sighed.   
"He's in the dorm and... we had a fight."  
Surprised, Kevin raised his eyebrows and leaned forward, which enlarged his face in an almost comical way. "A fight? You and him? How did you do that?"

Jeremy didn’t hesitate and told him everything that had happened. How Jean and he had acted, what they had said. He told him about his fears and the consequences what such a behavior at USC would have for Jean. Kevin took note of it all with a straight face and even when Jeremy had finished, he remained silent with his lips clenched.  
"Jean would never attack you," he finally said. "That's not how he was raised."  
"That's not how it looked like."  
"I do believe you. But he... he wasn't raised like that."  
"So you said."  
"Riko erased that from him," Kevin finally specified, and Jeremy raised his eyebrows in surprise.   
"What?"  
"When he came to Evermore, it wasn't on his own volition. He served to pay off a debt his parents had. They left him with the Ravens when he was 11 and never claimed him back."

In shock, Jeremy stared at his phone, hoping that he had misunderstood what Kevin had said. The settlement of a debt? That would explain Jean's fixation with the term possession and why he saw himself that way. With the Ravens, it had been nothing more than that, the settlement of a debt.  
"That‘s human trafficking. It's illegal," he whispered aghast and Kevin snorted.   
"Nobody cares about that in certain circles, Jer, and you'd do better to not stick your nose in it. Nobody cared about it until now and he's only alive because Renee got him out of it. Otherwise Riko would have killed him, and no one would have cared. Jer, Riko did things to him that you can't even imagine in your worst dreams. Not just Riko, but the coach, too. Right from the start, and it only ended two months ago."

Jeremy forcibly swallowed. He felt more and more helpless with every word that came out of Kevin's mouth. Jean was 11 years old when his parents abandoned him in a histile environment. He had been in the hands of Evermore for nine years and Jeremy couldn't begin to imagine what had happened over the years. The only thing he knew for sure was, that it was absolutely disgusting and inhuman?   
"If you know all this, why isn't he with you and the Foxes? You're his friend... someone I'm sure he trusts."  
Kevin snorted bitterly. "No, I'm not. If anyone has no right to call himself that, then it would be me. That's why I asked for your help. You, your team, your coach, you're good. There's nothing rotten, nothing bad oder violent about you. If anyone can help him heal and show him that there is something else than darkness and violence, it's you."  
"Did he come to us voluntarily?"  
"As willingly as anyone without a free will can be."

Jeremy frowned as he kept pushing the other's words back and forth in his mind until they made some sense. There was one more question, though. "Why didn't you tell me this right away?"  
Kevin shook his head. "I wouldn't have told you at all because I have no right to tell his story. I just don't want you to have the wrong impression of Jean, that's why I told you in the first place. He deserves a chance."  
Slowly and thoughtfully, Jeremy nodded. "Okay. I'll talk to him.“ He sighed. "Let’s see if the Trojan's full charme can‘t break him out of his past."

It was meant as a rather desperate joke, but Kevin was far from laughing. On the contrary. The fine shimmer of tears Jeremy saw in his eyes was disturbing.   
"At 11, he was a friendly boy who desperately lashed out in homesickness because it was the only thing he had left in a foreign land. Riko broke that ... The resistance and the kindness. Jean no longer understands the concept of kindness and affection and thinks that it only serves to break him. Be careful what you do and how you do it."

Jeremy nodded in silence and flinched in surprise when Kevin’s picture on the other end of the line shook and suddenly one of the Minyard twins appeared on the screen. Jeremy was never really sure which one he was dealing with and could only guess from the expression on the other boy‘s face that it might have been Andrew.   
"Give me back my phone, asshole," Kevin growled in the background. To no avail.   
"So you made the idiot cry," said Minyard in his classic, sonorous voice, which sounded latently bored. A trap, Jeremy thought, because the subtle threat that resonated in the simple statement made him shiver involuntarily.   
"He did not!"  
He did, but Jeremy wisely kept that to himself. "Is there anything I can do for you, Minyard?" he preferred to stick to the last name, not brave enough to ask with which one he was dealing.   
"No. Now go back to your french charity project."

Irritated, Jeremy stared at the screen waiting for another explanation, which did not follow. Instead of this he was rewarded with the termination of his phone call. Surprised, Jeremy snorted. Minyard, as he lived and lived. Andrew it was, for sure.   
Slowly he lowered the phone and stared at the sunny and summery sea that lay glittering before him. Los Angeles, L.A., that was pure joy of life. It was sun, it was warmth and friendly, warm-hearted people. L.A. was the pulse that kept him alive with all its aspects. Never in his life had he experienced repression, always he had been showered with love and had learned to give it generously.

It was unimaginable for him that there were people, here, in the USA, who were deprived of this spark of life. It hurt him deep in his soul and what he had learned from his parents from his earliest childhood now had an impact. He wanted to help. He wanted to heal what had been destroyed. 

Jeremy took a deep breath and stood up, remembering that Jean had a problem with being all alone. Determined, he knocked the sand off his shorts. He left the beach behind and walked back to his car, which took him through the streets, old and protesting as usual. The traffic had become heavier, so it took Jeremy longer than he really wanted to before he drove into the university parking lot again and parked the aging monsterof a truck. 

Tightening his shoulders, he got out of the car and walked the last few steps to their apartment building almost as fast as on the way out of there. But that didn't stop him from standing outside her apartment door and doing nothing, suddenly insecure. His heart was beating fast when he finally got himself together and put the key in the lock. Carefully he opened the door, prepared for whatever hate or fury might come. For a new conflict which he had to endure with his long practised stubbornness. 

That the boy, who had shown aggression towards him just hours ago, was now kneeling on the floor of the apartment, his forehead on the kitchen tiles, his hands stretched out flat on the floor in front of him, was not any oft he possibilities he had thought of. 

Jeremy had seen this pose too often in various films to not recognize immediately that it was a sign of absolute submission.   
He knew he had to move. He knew that he had to intervene, but he couldn't move one single bit. His eyes remained attached to the fingers, which were strangely crooked, just as if they had been broken several times. Six fingers looked like this. Jeremy tore himself away from the sight, which turned out to be a mistake.   
Jean had taken off his beanie, which alone made him nauseous. The boy showed him his hair, the damaged scalp, invited him to punish him with it. 

The sight and the implication of it were horrible.

Now it was Jeremy whose eyes burned. Silently he cried the tears he had seen in Kevin's eyes and eventually wiped them away brusquely. His tears were not important now. Jeremy freed himself from his immobility and came to Jean step by step. He sat down on the floor not far from him and once again timidly put his hand on the maltreated fingers, Kevin's words like beacons in his thoughts.   
Jean twitched violently and his breathing accelerated, but he stayed in the awful pose. It was humiliating and Jeremy felt this humiliation for Jean like acid within him, consuming him.

"You may not believe me now. Or maybe not in a week or a month or six months. But I won't punish you. I won't physically attack you or hit you or do other things to you. I won't give you orders, because that's not the way Trojans work. We're an equal team, not a dictatorship. We take care of each other and you are part of this team now, so we take care of you too. If that's what you want. If you want to leave, then I will help you find a place that makes you happier than this one. If you don't, we're back to the mess I made of this apartment. ...and our Exy field, which is actually pretty cool."

The latter was pronounced with a smile and Jeremy let his words sink in. He didn't know what else to say, other than nonsensical babble, which probably would unsettle Jean rather than cheer him up. It took his minutes until the trembling in the kneeling figure subsided. Minutes for his breathing to return to normal. Jeremy felt an exuberant urge to take Jean in his arms, even though he knew instinctively that this would be exactly the wrong approach. Because Riko had made it for him with his torture. 

"I threatened you," it finally escaped, cramped and pressed, underlined with a heavy French accent. Was it the desperation that made Jean's mother language stand out more? Probably.   
"Already forgiven. Even though I would prefer that this is not going to happen anymore."  
"I have disagreed."  
"This wouldn't make you the first or the last. When you meet Laila and Alvarez, you'll feel like a saint on that matter."  
"I have no place to go."

Jeremy sighed silently. "Then we'll make this place the best place you could be at. How does that sound?"  
"Terrible," Jean muttered and Jeremy snorted against his will.   
"Are my cooking skills that bad?" he tried to elevate their conversation to a level that was more humorous, easier, less traumatic, more mundane. The mop of brown hair shook slowly and Jeremy raised an eyebrow.   
"Come on, lift your head so I can see if you're lying," he held his tone lightly and playfully. The success he had with that made him rejoice inside. Hesitantly and slowly Jean came up and now knelt before him. He drew his hands to his thighs and looked Jeremy straight in the face. 

The not-so-nameless horror Jeremy saw there was an unparalleled shadow that made the grey eyes even brighter. Nine years of violence lay behind Jean, nine years in the hands of a psychopath named Riko Moriyama. He was certainly not qualified enough to deal adequately with such a trauma, but Jeremy would do his his best to help Jean learn again what joy was. 

"Hey." He drew his legs toward him and put his arms on his knees. "So. What do you want me to do? Cook us a cheesy cheese dinner every night?"  
The horror that now hit the backliner's face was less serious. It was one of the honest, instinctive reactions of which Jeremy now counted three.   
"No?"  
Jean shook his head.  
"What then?"  
It took Jean a moment before he apparently decided he could be honest. "I like lasagna." Carefully, as if he was in danger of being beaten for it, Jean told him a secret that Jeremy saved almost instantly. Lasagna. Good. He could do that, starting off today. At least with the help of a recipe.  
"Then it will be lasagna."

Jean's distrust was unmistakable. Not today, not tomorrow, not in a week or a month or six months, Jeremy kept his own words in mind. But finally Jean would have no choice but to believe him, because he promised nothing he wouldn't keep.

Ever.

~~**~~

Chapter 5

Jean had received neither the violence nor the humiliation he had expected.

Whatever had broken out of him a moment ago, whatever chains might have broken loose around his iron self-control, when he had laughed at Knox for his words... When knox had retreated from him and said that he was scaring him with his behaviour, Jean had realized his excruciating big mistake. By then Knox leaving the apartment had been just a last drop in Jean‘s wide ocean of panic. 

He didn't know how long he had been standing in front of the knife block, wondering if there was any point in delaying his death. Knox would certainly return with others and punish him adequately for the outrageous resistance he had put up. Jean would survive, but at what costs? And was he willing to pay for it?

As often as Jean had reached for one of the knives, he had put it back again. Again and again he found enough courage in himself to take that one, final step only to lose it an instant later.   
Instead, Jean had chosen to beg for forgiveness, hoping that his punishment would not be as severe as his own failure. He had taken the position that his Master and Riko had wanted for his worst failures, so that they could punish him severly: fingers stretched out, his head and back exposed. But unlike then he had not been able to get undressed while Knox was away. He had by no means been able to get his fingers to work so he could peel his shirt and trousers off his body. 

How many times had the Master whipped his back bloody for his resistance? Too many times for Jean to count over the years. Unlike the fractures that had disfigured his fingers. Six of them had been broken and healed crooked. Six fractures that wouldn't affect the way he played. Three of them self-inflicted. How had Riko put it? He was lucky that he hadn't had to cut them off. Jean still wondered whether that would not have been less painful.

He had presented his new captain what was easy to punish and what had Knox done? He had laid his damn hand on those very fingers that had been a testimony to his disobedience and had told him things that tore at Jean like wild animals would.   
Jean had understood the words, even beyond his rapid heartbeat and his stagnant breathing. But he had not understood their meaning. He had disobeyed his captain, and that meant punishment.

That was the way it had always been.

But not Knox. Knox had made promises. Jean had looked into the reddened eyes and realized that the captain had cried. For him? Jean couldn't believe it.   
Not for one second Knox had lost his smile and not for a second Jean had seen any sign of violence in that freckled face... a skill he had really developed over the last few years. In the end, Jean had been able to see every single sign of a mood change in Riko's face.

He hadn't seen anything in Knox's face and that had lulled him. By mistake. Jean had scolded himself as stupid as soon as his food preference had left his lips. Possession had no desires, that had been drilled into him over and over again. And here, on the second day, he blew that very education into orbit, just because someone seemed friendly. Because someone seemed to cry over him and thus made him feel guilty. 

Jean had called himself stupid even then, when that very lasagna stood before him on the food counter, steaming and slightly burnt. He had looked at the dish with a kind of morbid fascination and had silently wondered whether this was really happening. He didn't deserve any of it. He had not yet played a single ball in practice to be truly rewarded. On the contrary. Until now he had only been a liability.   
He had looked questioningly at Knox, whose grin shone towards him with an intensity that made Jean press his jaws together.

"You said lasagna," had been Knox's reason for cooking, and just like that he had put a double portion on Jean‘s plate. Even the nurse hadn't given him that much when he had been allowed to eat the first solid food after a week of soup and stew. 

Jean had spent their mealtime speculating about his captain's motives and intentions and had silently retreated into his own world, now that no direct questions had been addressed to him. Of course, he saw them in the blue eyes when he dared to look, but they never left Knox's lips. 

At the moment his captain was sorting out the chaos and washing away dirty dishes. After a few seconds Jean understood that he would not be ordered to do this job. A little helpless, he stood at the counter and finally summoned all his remaning courage.  
"Shall I help?" he asked into the silence and Knox turned to him in surprise.  
"If you'd like I’d be happy to. But there’s no obligation."   
Jean wasn't sure if he really wanted to, but he did what he'd learned from the nurse. Drying wasn't difficult to to, but he was still slow, partly because of the bruised wrists, which made it difficult for him to hold objects. 

Knox, like the sister, did not complain about this, but adjusted his tempo to suit him. 

"Your fingers..." he began, and Jean froze. He had seen the questions in the blue eyes. He should not be surprised that they finally found their way to Knox lips. But it was not yet a question and it would be wise not to say anything on his own.  
"...they were broken, weren't they?"  
Jean nodded in silence and reached for the next fork, which he carefully cleaned of its moisture and placed in a metal basket.   
"Was that an accident?"   
Silently denying this, he grabbed one of the spoons and looked at his upside-down, blurred reflection before putting the drying cloth around the metal. 

"Was it Riko?"

"Also." With little surprise, Jean discovered his voice was raw. Of course it was, after all, the subject was still bothering him. The memories of it did, haunting him in his dreams and when he was awake. 

Knox was silent at first, then he sighed.   
"I'm truly sorry about this, Jean." Again it was this particular intonation that caused a tingling, unidentifiable uneasiness in Jean. Why should Knox be sorry? After all, it had been a normal game and Jean had allowed the Trojan‘s captain to break through his defensive line and score a goal against the Ravens. His own sloppy playing was to blame. At least that first broken finger.  
"Don't be," Jean replied succinctly, reaching for one of the plates. 

Knox was silent for a whole cooking pot before he took a breath to say something. Jean wondered with growing anxiety what it would be this time.   
"Our team doctor will want to have a look at this before she releases you for training. She'll probably give you a full check-up, but don't worry. Even though she's a little tough sometimes, she's nice and a sweetheart. But don’t tell her that."

Jean had known he was due for an examination. He would have to undress in front of her. She would see and examine every single scar. She would ask questions. From some of the scars she would be able to deduce less obvious injuries, at least the Foxes' sister had done so and got him flyers to the appropriate help facilities for survivors, which he had all disposed of before he left.

"It's okay," he replied, even if it wasn't, and received an encouraging smile for it.   
"But that's for next week," Knox introduced his distraction and Jean raised his eyebrow. "What would you like to do tonight?"

To sleep, even if that would be impossible in Knox‘s presence. Reading the book Renee had given him. Write messages to her. Staring into the dark sky and following the path of the stars and the moon. Enjoying the soft pillow and the comfortable blanket.  
Jean shrugged his shoulders. 

"We could watch a movie together?"  
The last time he had seen a movie with others, Riko had decided to have the other players fix him to the floor, put a cloth over his mouth and nose and pour water on it to see if waterboarding was really as traumatizing as it was shown in the movie. Jean swallowed with difficulty. He suspected that Knox wouldn't do it, or at least Jean hoped he wouldn‘t, but he wasn't sure. Quite contrary to his fear, which was very sure that something would happen and increased his heartbeat accordingly.

Faster than he could control himself, he had pressed out a "No!" and had taken a step back. Away from the captain's reach. Another step away from the water, which suddenly got a completely different, more and more threatening meaning.   
But unlike Riko, Knox didn’t follow him. When he noticed what his question had triggered, he took a step back himself, away from the sink and raised his hand slowly with a frown, holding them in such a way that Jean could get the impression that they would not hurt him.   
"Okay, Jean. Okay," Knox said so calmly that Jean inevitably knew that everything what was going on inside him was right now revealed by his facial expression. "If you don't want to, we won't watch a movie. It's no problem at all, nobody's forcing you to."

It took a while until Jean actually believed him and could loosen his stiff fists so far that he didn't almost tear the dry cloth. He even managed to swallow, even though the lump in his throat was enormous.   
"Is there anything you'd rather be doing?" Knox continued to ask with this eerie calm that reassured Jean against his will. He didn't want to be lulled again, but the captain of the Trojans seemed to be able to do just that effortlessly. Jean wondered if it was perhaps a similarity with Renee that he hadn't recognized that was controlling his subconscious and making him braver than it was actually good for him.   
"Read," he tried his luck and was rewarded with a nod.   
"What are you reading at the moment?"  
"A book."

Jean hadn't really meant it as a joke, he hadn't even wanted to give that answer to Knox. It had come naturally to him, but that wasn't even the worst part of it. By far the worst part was his emphasis. Still slightly insecure and shaky, but at the same time ironic, latently sarcastic and teasing, as if he had any right to speak to his captain like that. 

Who found the whole thing highly amusing. 

While Jean was still cursing himself for not being able to keep his mouth shut, Knox giggled and a blush rose to his face, his lips curling into a broad grin that Jean could not understand. 

He had only said two words, why would they cause such a reaction? Confused, Jean stood beside him and his amazement at Knox's reaction gradually eclipsed his fear, as if it had only been a single, bad moment, a fleeting thought. 

"Okay okay, I deserved it," Knox said, when he had had enough air to speak again and had come out of his laughter.  
"What’s the book about?" Knox asked and Jean shrugged his shoulders.  
"I don't know."  
"I see. Not started yet?"  
Jean nodded and took another step back towards the sink, which had lost its immediate threat and was now back to what it had been before: a mixture of foam and water, there to clean up the mess in the small kitchen.

He grabbed the second plate and dried it with full concentration while Knox rinsed the rest and finally let the water flow out of the sink without dipping his head into it.   
"If you want to read, I'd puzzle a little bit and run something on my laptop in the background. Would that be okay?", he asked cautiously and Jean nodded slightly. He knew it didn't make any difference, but the idea that the TV was on and he was forced to watch a movie was as different as day and night from Knox running a movie on his laptop while he finished piecing up Day. Not even a fraction of his previous anxiety was stirred by this proposal. 

"Are there a lot of merchandising items like this?" he asked, out of a curious impulse that he could not quite suppress. In Evermore he had had no contact with such things, and in the nurse's house, too, there had been other concerns by far.

The glowing eyes that now turned towards him told him that he had better not have asked, because they resembled the twins' crazy relative so much at first, that Jean rightly feared Knox would turn into an equally bouncing rubber ball wrapped in human skin. Hemmick, that was his name. Nicky Hemmick. Jean shuddered. One evening the nurse and Renee had left him alone with Andrew’s cousin and when the human-skin rubber ball had finally left, Jean had locked himself in the nurse's bathroom for the rest of the evening and all night, pressing his hands on his ears to get some rest.

But apparently Knox was not like Hemmick, so he was spared another violation of his hearing and brain.   
"There are, of course, scarves, t-shirts, sweaters, jackets, buttons, caps, hats, backpacks, posters, displays, sticker albums, game apps, tabletop exyfields, cups, dishes, puzzles, blankets, candles, lamps..."  
When he realised that Knox would not stop listing everything, Jean raised his hands appeasingly, hoping that it was enough to make him stop. He was lucky. Knox fell silent and took a breath.  
"Shall I show you the shops?"  
Scared, Jean's eyes widened. "No." No. Definitely not.   
"Can I get you something?“  
Jean thought about the Kevin Day puzzle and shuddered. "No.“   
"You can also have customized merchandise."  
If Jean hadn't been chained to Knox by an invisible leash, he would have left the apartment by now. "No."  
"When's your birthday?"   
"No," Jean replied reflexively, only realising a moment later what he had said.  
"That's a funny date."

Jean didn't have to look to know that Knox was smiling. He could hear it in his voice. He could hear that the other boy wasn't angry with him, and maybe that's why a kind of calm came over him. It wasn't enough for a smile, certainly not, but he didn't feel uncomfortable at that moment. 

~~**~~

Considering Jean's downright frightened reaction to his suggestion to watch a movie, Jeremy had thought carefully about which movie he could run alongside while doing the puzzle. Something light that wasn't too intrusive might work. Something with humor and soothing, if not funny sounds.   
With a frown, Jeremy searched his online library and finally got stuck on Wall-E.

Silently, he pressed play and turned the laptop so that Jean could take a look at the screen any time he wanted to. Meanwhile, Jeremy continued to complete Kevin. Frustrated, he stared at the bright orange parts of the uniform that all looked the same and which he only got into place by trying to get them right. With horror he thought of the monochrome puzzle in red that Alvarez had given him with a diabolical grin and which he still hadn't touched. 

Concentrating on the piece in front of him inevitably made his thoughts turn back to the boy sitting on the bed behind him, the book on his knees. Out of the corner of his eye, Jeremy's gaze wandered to Jean from time to time and noticed that Jean too was not completely focused on his pages, but rather dared to take quicks looks at the screen every now and then. 

All the more Jeremy made him wonder what Jean really had been afraid of. He couldn't think of a logical explanation, but it didn't seem to be the moving pictures as such. So was it him whose presence Jean avoided or feared? Would it be any wonder if it was his former captain, of all people, who had done things to Jean that were far beyond Jeremy's imagination? Things he shouldn't be poking his nose into, if Kevin had his way.

But Kevin was not here and Jeremy had always been at staying out of other people’s problems. By signing the contract Jean was part of his team, so he was also responsible for the ex-Raven. He would not allow him to continue to suffer from the conditions in Evermore and certainly not tolerate that someone feared him or called him his owner just because he was the captain of an Exy-Team. And he would eat all of his equipment if Coach Rheman didn't feel the same way.   
Again Kevin's words came to his mind. Jean had come to Evermore as a friendly boy who had been torn apart piece by piece by Riko and his uncle? 

Jean's behavior did not speak of friendliness, certainly not, but of a great deal of fear and - which surprised Jeremy and pleased him - of unintentional humor. At least the latter was a good base for Jeremy to work with.

He ventured another look out of the corner of his eye in the direction of Jean and had to hide a smile when he saw that the other boy was now completely ignoring his book in favour of the movie and spellbound followed the scenes. On his face there was only the same, almost dismissive expressionlessness, but his eyes betrayed the backliner. Attentively and his eyes slightly larger than usual, he watched the little robot move with his beloved in a world without humans. 

There were moments when Jean frowned critically, just as he tilted his head twice when he seemed to be missing something. Once, Jean even raised his eyebrows in complete surprise before reflecting on what he was doing there.   
It was only when Wall-E and Eve met the humans that he averted his gaze and returned to his book.   
Jeremy saved this in his mental puzzle called Jean Moreau and returned to his puzzle, which had come a long way by the end of the film. He switched to one of his relaxing playlists and continued a bit further. It wasn't until he had put all the orange jersey pieces together that he finally stopped and decided that it was time to finally go to bed. 

As a warning to Jean, he sighed and then turned around slowly enough not to scare the other boy. A useless gesture, Jeremy realized when he saw that Jean had fallen asleep over his book, his head leaning against the wall, his hands open and relaxed. His shirt had slipped up on his right wrist just enough for Jeremy to see a white plaster peeking out of it, still under his sleeve. 

But that was not what caught Jeremy’s eye. It was the scarred, reddened ring around his wrist that prevented Jeremy from looking away. There were deep scars and repeatedly destroyed skin, which had had no chance to heal properly, that had caught Jeremy‘s attention and now made him swallow dry. 

Jeremy had once seen in a movie that shackles left such marks and even if he didn't believe everything he saw on TV, he just felt like he was seeing the living example of such wounds. How could he overlook this and not inform the police so that they searched Evermore and arrested those who were responsible für this?

Jeremy felt rage inside him that manifested itself like a blazing fire in his stomach. Anger at Evermore, at Riko and the Ravens' coach. He was angry at everyone who had looked away, and therefore, angry at Kevin. Kevin had been in Evermore for years, playing and living with Jean. The insinuations he made were that he knew more. So why had he only reacted now? Why only now, if Jean, as he said himself, had not survived, if Renee Walker had not got him out of there? 

Jeremy clenched his hands. He would talk to Jean as soon as possibly. Those who had done this to him wouldn't escape punishement.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
To be continued.

Chapter 6

All the Exy courts Jean had ever been to smelled the same.

It was the unique blend of sweat, linoleum odours, disinfectants and talcum, infused with old wood and chlorine, that made every Exy court smell the same, even now that he had all his senses to take a closer look at his new training area.  
He remembered it faintly, but he believed that the last time he had entered this court, he had only stood on two legs because the punishment for failure would have been even worse than playing the game against the Trojans with his already existing wounds.

But now Jean felt only the dull pain of his past wounds, which had been healing for weeks, and that made him receptive to a detailed look at what was waiting for him.  
The red and gold of the Trojans did not surprise him in the least, nor did the flags and banners that welcomed him. The entrance hall was plastered with them and painted in a correspondingly obtrusive manner. Bright, vibrant colours irritated his already overworked eyes, so it was certainly no help that he was now walking towards the trophy wall of the Trojans.

Every single player was listed here, current and long gone. The current players had a wall with their photos, a hodgepodge of crazy pictures that had nothing to do with the seriousness and dignity of their sport. Below them were red plaques with the names of the respective players in gold lettering. Right next to them hung the plaques of former players over the years.  
There was no such tradition in Evermore. What counted was the current team and its success. The former players kept their attitude in their essences, their bodies and souls, if they had one. 

Which Jean doubted in all cases. The dark, thick walls had robbed everyone of their soul, including him.

Jean moved away from the plaques and towards the trophies of the Day Spirit Award for sportsmanship inside and outside the games. The Trojans had won this useless prize eight times in a row. Jean silently snorted. Exy was about destroying and winning, not about treating your opponent with respect and friendship. The complete insane mistake of going down to the number of Foxes when there were only nine of them on the field was the stupidest thing Jean had seen in a long time.

Although...not quite. Josten's decision to sacrifice himself for Minyard and come to Evermore had been far more stupid. It had brought him weeks of pain, humiliation and physical and mental torture, which Riko had enjoyed to the fullest, especially considering that he had had Minyard tortured at the same time.  
Jean was still disgusted by what Riko had gleefully rubbed in Jean's face and how maliciously he had shown him videos of Minyard, taken during his therapy, which had been many things but not that. Riko had tried with all his might to break Josten. He had used Jean to wield the knife, to hurt and punish Josten.

Jean had obeyed his then captain just as he had done his best to patch up the unruly boy again and again, to convince him every time that he should not signthe contract and finally pushed him out of the nest. He had succeeded in doing so and at the same time hated Josten for coming and going voluntarily. And how had Josten thanked him for his support? By selling him to the main branch of the family without asking him, just like the son of the worst criminal murderer he was.

That Josten even thought he had saved his life in this way was almost amusing, if Jean was still able to laugh about something concerning Exy. One more month and three weeks, then this farce was over.

Jean looked from the red walls to the entrance to the court and followed his captain, who held the door open for him and smiled at him. The very smile that had been more forced since this morning. Less friendly. Knox was generally more silent than yesterday. It gave Jean some kind of satisfaction, knowing that the smiling façade was just that: a façade to lull him to safety. Jean might have bet that he had crossed boundaries with his denial yesterday. He should have simply agreed to watching a movie. After all, he had also liked this animation film about the robot. At least until the humans came into play.

Confirming that he had finally been right, Jean let go of the subject and prepared himself for what was to come.  
First of all there was the Trojan Court he was now entering, brightly lit by neon lights and windows that let in daylight. Jean had never noticed this before and accordingly he looked up in wonder at the high ceiling, which made this court so much different from Evermore. From there he looked up at the worn, high plexiglass walls that defined the playing field. The running tracks that surrounded it left a tingling sensation in Jean.

With the Ravens, running had usually been the part of their practice that had been the least painful one for him, so he had run lap after lap, had run to get at least that vague feeling of freedom. Something he also shared with Josten, who himself had run away from him with still bleeding injuries, grim, stubborn and for the most part desperate.

Knox unlocked one of the glass doors and Jean followed him onto the court. The linoleum swallowed his steps as he moved to the centre of the field that was also the centre of his being. Jean knew that if they took away the sport and the skills he had acquired, nothing would remain because he never had the chance to develope something that wasn't Exy.

Jean closed his eyes and let the feeling of this place sink in. It wasn't Evermore, so it felt strangely wrong, almost like a splinter under his skin, but in that moment it was enough that it was a court. Just now it was enough for him to finally feel something familiar around him after weeks of the unknown. This was something Jean knew and it gave him a calm that he needed so badly since he had come here.

The doors opened once again and Jean opened his exes as well, not wanting to be defenselss with somebody unknown. He saw a man approaching who had been smaller in his memory. Much smaller. Even the smile he was now seeing on that older face he had never seen before.

Jean knew the man's face, he knew who he was, but that prepared him in no way for the fear that suddenly held his heart in a cold, unyielding grip.  
Frankly speaking, Jean had remembered the Trojan coach differently. Less frightening, huge and broad-shouldered with hands that could probably kill a bear. He himself might be tall, but Rhemann was half a head taller than him, brawny and really intimidating in his own unique way. He would be able to break his bones effortlessly without any help.

"Hello Jean, I'm thrilled to have you here. The best backliner of the NCAA," Rhemann said with his deep voice. Jean swallowed and stared at the hand that was stretched out between them. Apparently that went differently here as well. The Master would never have tolerated such a gesture of disrespect, neither from him nor from other Ravens. The Master would never have and had never greeted or even praised him in such a way. He was not the best backliner. He was just good enough to stay alive to serve as a source of income for the Moriyamas.

Carefully and ready for anything, Jean reached out with his hand and placed it in coach's, who shook it surprisingly gently, giving him a warm smile so different from that of his late captain or Master. No one in Evermore had smiled out of kindness.  
"Did you arrive safely? Has blondie here already provided you with the essentials and given you your first tour?"  
Jean took a quick look at Knox, who had been standing beside him in silence ever since they had entered the court. Jean nodded and registered with relief that the man let go of his hand without breaking it.

"Very well. We'll get the rest done and next week we are going to do your college application and all the glorious administration stuff so we can get you enrolled properly.  
Jean tilted his head. "Yes, thank you, Sir."  
"I can imagine that all this must be new and unfamiliar to you, especially compared to Evermore, but it'll be okay. If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask Knox or me about it. We are glad to help."

Jean nodded. What else could he do? The words were so incomprehensible that he didn't know what to do with them. The last person he would ask for advice would ever be his coach. That would be an unforgivable sacrilege, an unspeakable misshap.

"Speaking of which... do you have any yet?"  
Confused, Jean looked up and Rhemann frowned.  
"Questions, I mean."  
"No, Sir."  
"Okay. But I do. Size?"  
Jean blinked without understanding.  
"For your uniform."  
Again Jean bowed his head in a sign of obvious submission. It would be no wonder if he was being punished right here for his stupidity in not being able to follow his coach.  
"Size L, Sir."

"I thought so. Good. I will prepare the order. I'm afraid, number 3 is already taken. If you dare, you can try and steal it from Alvarez. In that case, it was a pleasure to have met you and I would ask you to submit a prominent sepulchral inscription in advance. If, understandably, you are not brave enough, you will be given number 7. That all right with you?"

Jean looked somewhat helplessly from Knox to their Coach, whose wild gestures and desperate expressions were probably intended to suggest to him that the last option would be the better one. He frowned and wondered why Rhemann threatened him so openly with death, but still gave him the choice to obey. Who was he to refuse to accept it? Not that this option scared Jean particularly.  
Especially since he had no sympathy for the number three, on the contrary. He had never asked to be number three and to have that burnt to the bottom of his soul. If he had had the choice, he would have had the mark of his possession burned from his face, just like Josten.

Again, Wesninski's son had been much stronger than him.

"Number 7 is all right," Jean replied when he saw that an answer was expected from him.  
"Good, clever boy. Would have made the same choice," his coach nodded benevolently and examined him closely. He was dissected attentively and without anger, especially his hair hidden by the cap and his cheeks, still furiously bearing red marks of Riko's last violent excess. Rhemann's gaze clearly told him that he knew more and that made Jean nervous, although he should not be surprised. Wymack had certainly spoken to him and told him what to expect.

"David told me to go easy on you," Rhemann confirmed his suspicions not a second later. "What about your injuries? Do you think that you are physically able to play the coming season?"  
"I am able to make my contribution," Jean replied accordingly and Rhemann stroked his black, thick beard.  
"For the main practice, I will wait for Fiona's go. She's the team doctor and decides on the fitness of my players. But if you want to do a few easy rounds and likely easy drills go ahead, I won't stop you." Coach Rhemann raised his index finger as a warning. "Emphasis on light, Moreau."

The black eyes lay heavily on him and Jean swallowed involuntarily. He could not do anything with the admonition. In all its severity it frightened him. He did not know what Rhemann meant by easy. Never in his life he had had an easy Exy-training. Was it a metaphor? If so, what for? Irony, maybe? Cynicism?  
"Knox, you are going to take care of that", Rhemann rumbled and his captain saluted in such an irreverent and nonchalant way that Jean shuddered.  
"Aye aye Coach. Light training."

No matter how easy it was, there was one big problem with practice. Jean swallowed as he panicked while searching of a phrase that would spare him from punishment. He failed with every variation, so he cleared his throat and tightened up.  
"May I say something?" he asked quietly and Rhemann grunted in surprise.  
"You don't have to ask, boy. Just tell me."  
Nervously, Jean kneaded his aching fingers and looked at the equally worn hall floor. Again it took him an almost impolite period of time before he found the courage to speak.  
"I have no sports clothes. Renee Walker gave me ... she took nothing with her when she came to Evermore. I have nothing," he admitted and was confronted with a wall of silence, which certainly didn't mean anything good. How could he train and do his job with nothing? Correct. Not at all. He could probably be glad that he wasn't already lying on the floor with a bleeding nose and a stick beating his back into a bloody lump.

A surprised sound finally left the lips of his new coach. "Haven't you gone shopping yet?"

Jean looked up in horror as he realised his terrible mistake. What was he thinking of, being a traitor to his captain like that? How could he think of betraying Knox, when he was the one who was going to get the answer for his mistake? Jean knew this only too well, as he and Josten had received more than enough punishment for each other's misconduct over the Christmas holidays. So Jean could think of nothing better than to betray Knox in front of the coach? He swallowed and crossed his arms in front of his stomach, chewing his lower lip between his teeth.

"No, we bought the basic stock first. We have not bought anything else yet. If we are doing some drills, I'd grab Jean today and take him shopping."  
And just like that, the coach accepted Knox's reasoning and growled. He didn't raise his voice, he didn't hit his captain or him, he didn't do anything except dismiss this slovenliness with a meaningless gesture. Jean stared stunned at the two of them, for whom this seemed perfectly normal.  
"Good. Is there anything else I should know? Moreau?"

Jean thought feverishly about whether there was anything else he should say or ask and finally nodded.  
"Would you like me to follow a special meal plan, Sir?" he finally asked. The amused snort surprised him.  
"Just don't let Knox tell you that his sweet stuff is full of vitamins and should therefore be an important part of your sports diet. Otherwise, eat what's good for you and what you like."

Jean nodded obediently, even though once again he could not make sense of the words. He had never made any decisions about what he ate in the last few years and now he was given complete control over it? How should he decide what was good for him? Restlessness came over him alone at the thought of it and made its way into his already completely chaotic thinking. None of this fitted to what he was used to, everything was new, was the complete opposite of all that had passed and he did not know how to deal with it.

If he thought he had finally found a direction in this court, he was wrong. None of his other standards applied here, and even the people surrounding him were so much different from Edgar Allan or even the Foxes. In both cases the violence had been palpable, but here their absence was like a constant phantom pain that drove him mad. Jean hoped that it would subside, especially when the courses and training started again and he had distractions.

"If there's nothing more, I'll let you two off into the sun. And Knox...easy practice!"

With that the coach apparently threw them out of the court, at least that was how Jean interpreted his gestures and facial expressions. He dared to take a look at his captain to orientate himself. The fact that he saw a broad grin on his freckled face did not really surprise him.  
"See you tomorrow, Coach," Knox whistled and was rewarded with a groan. But they didn't get any more attention than that as Rhemann headed for the equipment room.

Reluctantly Jean left the place and followed Knox sliently to his old car. Mindful of the spring, he carefully took his place in the passenger seat as soon as the door was opened. Knox gave him one of his now tense smiles and Jean swallowed.

"I'm sorry," he said softly on his own, almost too softly not to be drowned out by the music booming from the radio, which the other boy almost hastily turned off. He lowered his eyes to his crossed hands, fearing what he would see on the other boy's face.  
Silence greeted him.  
"What are you sorry for, Jean?" Knox finally asked quietly. Too quiet for Jean's taste. Like a ticking time-bomb that was just about to explode.  
"That I mentioned to Coach Rhemann that I didn't have the proper training gear."

Knox glanced surprised at him. Jean could tell that by the movement in the corner of his eye. "Oh Gosh... that. No prob! After all, training wasn't even an issue yet, so why should we have bought sports equipment on the first day? I'm glad I could at least talk you into a blanket."  
"And a pillow," Jean added muttering. Once again Knox calmed his fears more than he confirmed them, which was frightening enough in itself.

A upcoming silence between them made Jean more than nervous. Silence meant nothing good with Knox, he suspected. Silence meant that there was something else and that he wouldn't like it because it was new and unfamiliar and he didn't know how to react to it.  
Silence meant that he had apparently done something wrong. He dared to look in the direction of his captain. Knox put his hands in his lap and stared at them as if he had to prepare himself for the conversation he was going to have with him.

Unwillingly, Jean pressed himself against the passenger door. His left arm twitched in anticipation of a blow, in anticipation of having to protect his head, but nothing happened.  
With every second they sat here, Jean became more and more nervous. This was not the Knox he had met before. This Knox would have said something long ago, kept him from getting used to his new surroundings with trivialities.

It was only when the air was tense to the point of rupture and Jean wanting to turn off the air conditioning that was blowing cold air at them that his captain cleared his throat and raised his head, turning it so that the oh so piercing blue eyes could record every movement in his beaten face.

Jean felt naked under this gaze.

"I'd like to talk to you about something," Knox began and Jean wondered if it made sense to just flee out of the car and run away. Away from this boy, this car park, away from this town. For a few seconds he gave in to the hopeless idea that he was fleeing into the vastness of this country he had seen so often from the plane. Into the wilderness, far away from all people and no one ever finding him.  
How many times had this thought taken him out of Evermore, while he was lying bleeding and aching on the cold concrete or hall floor after Riko had finished with him? Like a marvellous utopia, Jean had let himself be carried away by the thought and thus freed himself from his body and his suffering in order to preserve his sanity.

But as in Evermore, he did not dare, broken for years and imprinted on his master like a dog, full of fear but still obedient.

Jean knew that an answer was required from him, so he nodded automatically without really wanting to. Knox swallowed audibly.

"Last night, you dozed off while reading and your sleeve moved. I saw the scars around your right wrist."  
Jean swallowed convulsevily He was aware that he had slept briefly, but that Knox had enough time to watch him gave him goosebumps. The fact that he had also seen the scars Jean had been trying to hide since his arrival, so as not to give his new captain any ideas, was just an even bigger disaster.

Like a deer in the spotlight, Jean stared at Knox, unable to move or react.

"Jean, if you want to go to the police and press charges, I fully support you there. Not just me, but Coach, too."

If he had thought that the time before Knox's words jad already been bad, Jean had not expected the words themselves and now he could not help but notice that the time after his proposal was much worse than anything he could have imagined.  
First there was disbelief. He hoped he had misheard. He believed in a bad joke. He believed he was dreaming.

None of this was true.

Then there was horror at the thought of confessing what happened under the protective hand of the Yakuza to a policeman and causing an unprecedented bloodbath. And the thought that he should confide in anyone at all. All that had happened? He didn't remember much of it properly, because his brain had only tried to survive.

The horror was followed by the fear that Knox would do it without his consent, leaving him no choice but to take his own life before Moriyama's killers came to him and tortured him to death.

Unable to say anything, Jean stared Knox into his eyes and shook his head when he found the strength to do so. It was almost too much already and over the murmur in his ears Jean felt that it wasn't enough.

"Kevin told me that these are things I'd better not stick my nose into, but this is assault. They can't get away with it."

Jean clenched his hands into fists and unclenched them again with iron self-control. Never in his life did he think he would utter those words and while he was fighting with them, they were shards in his mouth, meant to bleed the last remnants of his pride.  
It took Jean three attempts before he squeezed out more than just a croak. "Day is right," he then pressed out. "It's not important."

This was met with little approval. "They've hurt you, Jean. Of course it matters," Knox said the impossible, the unthinkable. He was possession, it didn't matter. Knox knew he was property, why did he say such a thing?  
Why did he say something that only Renee had said to him before? Jean, you're important to me. Over and over again she had told him that, until he believed her. Why did the other boy say something similar to that?  
"Why?" he whispered in a correspondingly confused way and his captain's smile became so soft that Jean had to look away because it hurt him too much.  
"You remember? You being part of our team. You belong to us and the Trojans stand up for each other."

It sounded almost ridiculous, like a motivational speech, like empty words, underpinned by even less important intentions. But something in it made Jean pause, even if he felt like laughing again. Perhaps it was precisely this degree of seriousness that made a change for Jean.  
Where he had expected violence, Knox had shown him once again that he had misjudged his captain thoroughly.  
There had to be a Jeremy Knox manual. A formula, an equation, by which he acted and which determined his life. If it wasn't violence, what was it? Charity? Could he replace violence with charity and kindness? Was that his equation?

Jean realised that those emotions would rage in him worse than any blow could do.

And as with blows, he armed himself against this new form of violence.

Little by little he trained his facial expression to expressionlessness, his body to defend itself. He kept silent long enough to change the atmosphere in the car from desperate to unpleasant. Then he snorted and pierced Knox literally with his eyes.  
"My injuries are nobody's business," he tried with unkindness, which in its abrupt form made his Captain flinch heavily. "Not you, not the Trojans, not the police."

Knox opened his mouth to contradict, but before Jean could come up with a new strategy, or before his heart could burst with fear of punishment for his impertinent tone of voice, the other boy closed his lips and frowned thoughtfully.  
"Are you sure you don't want this," Knox asked slowly and carefully, and Jean looked pointedly out of the window. Nevertheless, it was a question he had been asked directly and to which he had been drilled to answer.  
"No, I don't want that."

Inevitably, he held his breath. Never before had others been interested in what he wanted. No one had ever listened to what he said. No one except Renee. And now... now Knox accepted what he said. Listened to it. Paid attention.  
"Okay, Jean. I respect that." The other boy nodded and finally got the car going. Jean glanced. Knox respected his words? Why? Thoughtfully he maltreated his lower lip between his teeth.

"Would you rather go to the mall or a little shop to buy your sports equipment," Knox distracted himself and Jean was inevitably grateful that he was confronted with a more tangible problem at that moment.

A small shop sounded much better than a mall. Renee had told him about one in Los Angeles, a big, crowded shopping area. It was a horror for Jean, but he couldn't say no to it. He had to choose the mall so Knox wouldn't think he was weak, he with his scars of humiliation.

"Mall," Jean finally said curtly. He would get through this, he had no other choice. Weakness would endanger others. Renee for example. Or the nurse.

Abby. That was her name.

~~~~~~~~~  
To be continued.

Chapter 7

Jean had not spoken to Jeremy since he had mentioned the scars. The ex-Raven sat silently next to him, this time not anxiously or cautiously, but rejecting, as if Jeremy's question had triggered something dark that had not been there before. Here he was, the starting backliner of the Ravens, whom no one came too close to and with whom no one started a conversation at banquets or after games. He was aloof and cold, dismissive and arrogant.

Jeremy could not say what was less irritating. The hurt and frightened boy who had arrived at LAX and flinched away from him as if Jeremy wanted to hit him or the one who was walking just behind him, a towering and terrifying presence in his neck. No cautious attempt to persuade the other boy to talk to him had been successful. Only direct questions inflicted direct, monosyllabic answers. So Jeremy just rambled on and on and explained the details of every store in the mall to Jean, including its purpose, its merchandise and its price range... hoping that Jean would be listening and hadn't probably already switched off his hearing sense completely.

Finally they stopped in front of the sports store and Jeremy turned around with a faint smile.

He looked up and realized that he had apparently at least partially misjudged Jean‘s silence. His face expressed anything but rejection. The gray eyes nervously turned to every corner, unsteady as they looked at their surroundings and tried to absorb every single possible danger. He saw astonishment on the injured face and could identify with it. More than that. When he had first visited this mall, he had been equally overwhelmed by its sheer size and pleasant atmosphere.

"Pretty cool, isn't it?" Jeremy ventured a new attempt to start a conversation with Jean, this time successfully. The grey eyes focuses slowly on him. "It's not the biggest mall here in L.A., but it's one of the most beautiful, bright ones. You are not getting run over here, so it's quite nice."  
It took some time for his words to sink in and much longer for Jean to decide to answer him. "I've never been to a mall like this before," he said expressionless and Jeremy nodded. He could guess why not. He could guess what short chain the Ravens had put on Jean... figuratively and literally.

"Neither was I until a few years ago. I was actually born and raised in a small town in the middle of nowhere, between eternally big fields and the horizon somewhere in the distance. There was no such thing...when I got here for the first time, I was amazed like crazy and spent my entire money here." Jeremy carefully chose something light that he could tell. Something beautiful that might lure Jean out of his hiding place.   
"Is it as sunny there as it is here?" Jean asked and Jeremy nodded.  
"It’s hotter in the summer, but there is more rain."

Jean didn't say anything about it, but Jeremy saw how he was thinking about what he had just heard. For the first time Jeremy there was something like interest in Jean, even if it was crushed only seconds later.  
"I can show you pictures of our farm if you like," Jeremy offered, and was confronted with an uncertainty he already knew well. There was a no in Jean's eyes, but his lips apparently did not dare to say it. Jeremy smiled.  
"Only if you want to. Just let me know when you want to see them," he said and pointed to the sports store in front of them. "Sports gear?"

Jean silently followed his finger with his gaze and Jeremy took the lead when he was sure that he would not receive an answer. It didn't escape Jeremy's attention that Jean was completely overwhelmed with the assortment of clothes and was getting more and more nervous.  
"Do you have a particular brand you like to wear," he asked as calmly as possible and was rewarded with a minimalistic head shake.  
"What do you think about trying things on and then deciding what to take with you?

Jeremy could have easily suggested running the gauntlet as fast as the body next to him froze.  
"Try it on?" Jean asked hoarsely, and Jeremy made a sound of agreement. He turned to Jean slowly enough that the backliner was not frightened by his movements.  
"We can also buy the clothes and you try them on at our dorm. You can do it in peace and quiet and without meeting sceptical-looking athletes from other sports." It was intended as a joke, but the moment the words left Jeremy's mouth, he realized that Jean hadn't taken it as a joke.

The other boy hunched his shoulders to protect himself from glances that did not really exist. It had been just a stupid joke, simply put. One too many, Jeremy scolded himself silently.  
"Ah... not that someone is looking, that was just a phrase," he tried to appease, but failed, as so often, because his fate stood in his way at every opportunity and threw sticks between his legs.

"Captain Sunshine!", a voice, which he knew only too well and which of course attracted the attention of the surrounding customers, boomed through the store.   
"Captain, my Captain!"   
Jeremy turned around, grinning. "Ajeet...you here?," He had only seconds to be surprised before he was pulled into a crushing hug and was lifted effortlessly from the ground. Jeremy groaned under the strong grip of their second goalkeeper, who seemed to want to break every bone in his body.  
"Where else should I be?"  
"With your parents at work! I'm surprised they let you leave the shop at all."

They all knew Ajeet's stern parents, who were as proud of their son as they were proud of his good grades and his work at home in their local company, especially during the semester break. Jeremy did not envy him for the proximity of his parents' home to the university.  
"I sneaked away, but don't tell them," thundered the giant of a boy who was also a bit taller than Jean. Effortlessly Jeremy was once again the smallest in the group with the two giants here.  
He grinned. "Sure thing! I promise."  
"Are you shopping with your...", Ajeet asked and, to the horror of Jean, turned abruptly to him. "...oh my gosh, that's Jean Moreau! Dude! That's a long way from Evermore to L.A.! What are you here for? Exchange? Courtesy call to get out of the castle?"

Yeah, fate definitely liked to fuck him over.

Jeremy looked discreetly around and realized that the customers who were closest to them were staring at them. That was exactly what he had tried to prevent, because that scared Jean so much that he stood stiffly next to them and didn't move at all, his hands clenched into fists, their skin stretched white around his knuckles, his face programmed with cold rejection.

Jeremy cleared his throat. "Jean, may I introduce one of our goalies, Ajeet Anand. Don’t worry, he only looks like he could uproot a tree with his bare hands, but he is a very kindhearted soul."   
Jeremy really tried, he tried to make the situation more pleasant for Jean, but Ajeet had also a deal with destiny. Of course.  
"That's not true at all, don't you remember last year when we did the community service at the retirement home? I ripped out a tree with my bare hands," Ajeet told them proudly.

Jeremy remembered. It had been funny then and it was funny now. But a look in Jean's face told him that the other boy was not amused at all.  
Jeremy lowered his voice and distracted Ajeet's attention from Jean. "Ajeet, Jean is our new backliner. The deal was freshly made and it was supposed to be a surprise for you guys... after the semester break."

For one second, there was surprised silence and Jeremy saw Jean relax and look into Ajeet's eyes. Jeremy saw this as progress, and watched with inner horror as his giant goalkeeper pulled Jean into a devouring embrace and patted him on the back so furiously that Jean groaned in pain.

Oh. No.

Jeremy wasted far too much time with staring while Ajeet hugged Jean so tightly that nothing could fit between them. This in itself was nothing unusual for him, as Ajeet had seamlessly introduced his family tradition to the Trojans. Here, however, it was an impending catastrophe of which Ajeet was not even aware, but Jeremy was.

Jean did not move, his arms motionless at his sides. His face had lost all color and his eyes showed the surprised and frightened horror of people who had not expected what was happening to them right now. Jeremy wondered in panic if he should pull them both apart, making the scene more awkward than it already was, but then Ajeet let go of Jean.

"I'm glad you're here! It's going to be awesome with you as a Trojan, I'm really looking forward to it!" Unsuspecting as Ajeet was, he beamed at the motionless boy, who did not look at either of them, but stood in front of them like a statue, his eyes absent. Only now did Jeremy see the trembling that had gripped Jean's entire body and put a hand on Ajeet's arm. Confused, Ajeet met Jeremys eyes. „Is…is everything okay?“

It was not. Not at all.

"Jean...?," Jeremy asked tentatively. Jean remained silent and it took Jerey two attempts before the gray eyes paid him even the slightest attention.  
"No." Jean pressed the word out and took a step back, while shaking his head. "No." Another one, this time even more shaky. One more step.  
"Jean, maybe you should sit down, you look a little shaken."  
His suggestion was ignored in favor of further steps away from them.  
"Shall we go back to the car?" Jeremy asked out of impulse, and Jean shook his head. His outstreched hand was more than a subtil signal for Jeremy to not go forward.

Still caught in this disturbing trance, Jean turned around and left abruptely the store, leaving them here. Jeremy tried to follow him, but Ajeet stopped him with one hand on his arm. Regretfully, he looked down at Jeremy.  
"Leave him, Cap. I think he just needs a little space. I'm sorry I messed up," he lowered his head and Jeremy sighed.   
"You didn't screw up anything, you couldn't know he wasn't into hugs."  
"He was afraid of me, Jer."

It was not really a question and Jeremy saw the spark of dismay that had already found its way into his goalkeeper's self-confidence. Nothing was worse for Ajeet than people thinking he was going to hurt them. His own family history was too tainted by his grandfather's violence for that. Ajeet never had anything bad in mind. Never ever.  
"He doesn't like getting touched by or getting in contact with other people," Jeremy tried to explain what he couldn't explain himself, because he wouldn't pass on everything he would have to say about it to a third person without Jeans' consent. However, he would also not allow Ajeet to reproach himself ruthlessly for hugging the other boy.

With Jean already out of his sight and taking Kevin's warning seriously never to let the ex-Raven out of his sight, Jeremy made a decision that he hoped would not lead to disaster this time.  
"Tomorrow afternoon at the court...a first practice, you, him and me?" he asked and Ajeet nodded mutely.  
"That would be great, but I don't want to frighten him any further."  
"I have an idea how this will not happen," Jeremy replied, "Now please don't be angry with me, but I'll see if he's okay."  
"Okay, Cap. I'll let my parents know."  
"You do that and please say hello to your mom and dad from me."

Jeremy waved and ran out of the store, only to discover that Jean was nowhere to be seen. He had just vanished, and Jeremy cursed heavily. Kevin's urgent warning not to leave Jean alone because a Raven didn't know what it was like to be alone was written in big, bright letters above this catastrophe and Jeremy feared the worst.  
The expression on Jean's face had been nothing more than sheer panic and this could not mean anything good. He had been afraid to be touched. He had been in pain. His face had been distorted in pain when Ajeet patted him on the back.

Damn it!

To find Jean in the mall was like looking for a needle in a haystack. Maybe he didn't want to be found at all, or was angry, hated him, was afraid...there were plenty of possibilities.  
Whatever it was, Jeremy had to find Jean, so he searched the entire mall. First systematically the paths they had already taken, the stores he had explained to Jean.   
Nothing...there was nothing. Jean was nowhere to bei found.

Only when he was sure he had searched the entire mall did Jeremy run back to the parking garage and walked back to his car, which he had parked on one of the upper decks. It was shadowy, but still warm enough for him to break out in a sweat from the running.

Jeremy arrived at his car, but Jean was not to be found there either. He became painfully aware that the other boy had a mobile phone but they had not yet exchanged their numbers. Surely Kevin could help him but Jeremy was reluctant to bother the Foxes‘ striker again and explain why he sounded so panicky because he damn well was. Jeremy tugged at his hair and went to search the entire floor of the parking garage before he would take the option of calling Kevin, despite his reluctance. He searched every nook on this level, losing gradually his hope that he would find Jean and explain it all to him. Until...

He suddenly heard a soft voice in the last, darkest and quietest corner of the deck. The voice itself was very familiar to him, even though he had not heard it as often as he had wanted to hear it in the past four days.  
Behind an old, shabby rust bucket, in the last corner of the parking garage, sat Jean. It was quiet around them, so Jeremy could make out the almost whispered words of the other boy, which he thought were a monologue at first.  
The female voice that Jean answered contradicted his assumption.

"I can't do this, Renee," the backliner murmured and Jeremy took a step closer, even though he already had a guilty conscience that he was about to overhear a conversation that wasn't meant for him. "Everything is so different here. They are all so different. Nothing here is like Evermore or..."  
The female voice - Renee Walker - sighed and it was such a soft, compassionate sound that it inevitably made Jeremy's heart hurt. He knew her from their games and banquets and she had never been anything but kind to him, but that was it. Friendly and polite. This, however, was something entirely different.

"He just hugged you," she replied and Jeremy knew exactly what she meant. Who they were talking about. "Some people just do that."  
"Nobody just does something like that."  
She laughed. "We've also hugged each other."  
Jean growled and Jeremy raised his eyebrows in surprise. He liked the unexpected sound in all his open humanity. "This is something different."  
"Because I asked you before if it’s okay."  
"Because you... are you."  
Renee sighed heavily. "Oh, gorgeous.... he certainly didn't mean any harm."  
"He slapped me on the back."  
"Kindly?"  
"I don‘t know? Sure as hell not."  
"Why?"

Silence followed Renee's words, and Jeremy's treacherous feet brought him a little closer, so he could catch a glimpse of Jean sitting with his legs drawn up, his back leaning against the old truck and talking to Renee, who was smiling at him on the screen of his mobile phone.  
"You could ask him," suggested the Foxes' goalie and Jean snorted.  
"Even if he would answer, does it matter?"  
"Yes, because it will help you understand them."

Again there was silence, then Jean let his head fall back against the door of the car with a dull thud. "Even the coach is different. He shook my hand. He said something about easy drills. Why does he do and say such things? The Master would never have..."  
Renee growled and Jeremy winced in surprise. He would never have thought that such a deep, angry sound, which even outshone Kevin's rumble, would come out of this tender person.

But hadn’t she been the one who had taken Jean from Evermore? Kevin's words. Unwillingly, Jeremy wondered how she had done it, even though he wasn't sure if he really wanted to hear the answer.  
"No one is like Moriyama, Jean. This man is no comparison to the rest of the league. Not for Wymack, not for Rhemann or anyone else. He's a filthy asshole, a disgusting shithead. The others ain't. Rhemann's really nice. He'd never do anything to hurt you." 

Her words made Jeremy shiver. Master? He had guessed that Evermore was something completely different from the rest of the Class I league, but that bordered on being a violent sect. A coach who let himself be called Master? It matched the impression he had gained from the opposing team on many occasions, especially at banquets. Always together, a single, black bunch, contemptuous of others, with a playing style that was at best terms unsportsmanlike. Every move had been a show of aggressiveness that made Jeremy wonder how to maintain such a level of violence even in their sport. And Moriyama as a coach, an undisputed authority, whose word was the law.

He snorted quietly as he thought of the countless times he hadn't escaped Jean on the court and had been pushed against the walls or checked to the ground, all on the fine line of legality. There had been games against the Ravens when he had hobbled off the field beaten black and blue and had been attracting attention on the beach for weeks afterwards because he looked like he had been abused.

The aggressiveness seemed to have its origins in their former coach and Jeremy felt nothing but anger and scorn for such behavior, but it also made him proud of his own team. They were not and would never be like that.

"I don't know how to believe that," Jean admitted and Jeremy squared his shoulders. He took a deep breath and went around the car.  
"But I do," he replied, knowing that his presence would frighten the ex-Raven. Jeremy gave Jean his best, softest smile but he could not prevent Jean from dropping the mobile phone from his hand.

Jeremy waited and when the other boy didn't bother to pick it up, he bent down and turned the screen so he could see Renee.  
"Hi," he greeted her with a small grin and she waved back.  
"My ass…Captain Sunshine!"  
Jeremy rolled his eyes. Not her, too. How far had this spread? "Listen, rainbow girl...," he stated playfully, sitting down on the floor next to Jean and holding the mobile phone so that they were both visible. Not an easy thing to do, given the distance between Jean and him, but with a few contortions manageable. Renee laughed.  
"Were you eavesdropping, Knox?" she asked with an raised eyebrow in rebuke while Jean sat stiff as a stone next to him.  
"Just a few minutes and long enough to fight for my... for our coach's honor," he joked back and she snorted.  
"Oh? Is that so. Than fight!"

Jeremy nodded and held the phone out to Jean. "Here, that's yours," he said to the boy, whose hands had restlessly lain in his lap and who was now painfully surprised to have his phone back. Silently, Jean continued to hold it so that they were both visible and Jeremy couldn't help but notice the latent trembling that had taken possession of Jean‘s hands. The bewilderment in the gray eyes hurt him.

Jeremy took a deep breath, theatrically even, but humorous enough to relax the situation. He turned slightly towards Jean, after all it was all about calming his backliner. He half-turned to Renee to avoid leaving Jean in the focus of his full attention and thus frighten him further. He told her what he wanted to say about their coach, even though he knew that the information was more important for Jean.

"Rhemann's way of training is a bit like a strict but loving circus director herding his cats, trying to make sure they don't run in all directions and that they all do what they need to do. Sometimes this works, often he is partially successful and very often we are a chaotic bunch of people who just enjoy and love what we are doing and have a good time training together. Even if he seems grumpy, Rhemann is basically happy with us and doesn't want to miss us. Last year, for example, he had a nasty flu that he caught during his skiing vacation. So I had to film the court training with his tablet so that he could be part of our drills. He loves this sport and he loves the sportsmanship and the sense of togetherness that comes with it. And he loves us, even though he would never admit it."

Jeremy took a deep breath. Not putting Jean in the center of his focus had been exactly the right decision. The boy sitting next to him had had the opportunity to listen in peace and to be able to reflect on his own thoughts.  
"That's the way we work. As we all know since the last game against the Foxes, we're the good guys but not the smart ones." He winked and she did him the favor of laughing at his bad joke.

"That's what you got the best backliner in our league for," she answered and with fascination Jeremy watched as Jean retracted his head and his earlobes turned red.  
"That's not true," muttered Jean almost inaudibly. Renee snorted.  
"Jean Moreau, please do note that I know what I’m talking about," she rebuked him playfully. With astonishment Jeremy saw something like a smile on Jean's lips and he realized that there was definitely something more going on between the two of them than he had previously assumed.

It had been Renee who had rescued Jean from Evermore with her connections. According to Kevin, she had lobbied for Jean to find another team. She had done even more. Jeremy had heard that at their last banquet Renee had approached the grim Raven, who was notorious in their league for his playing style and his disregard for other players. At some point by the end of the evening, he had seen the two of them together and had actually seen something like emotion on Jean's face.

Was it unreasonable tot hink that the two oft hem were together or at least very close? Not in the least, Jeremy decided.

"If you want to visit Jean, we also have a guest room at our house," he offered with a wink. She understood - unlike Jean - his latent ambiguity and laughed.  
"I have a season to play and I'm going to kick your sorry ass, Captain Sunshine. No time for distractions!"  
"Offer is on, rainbow girl. Just tell Jean to let me know, and I'll get the key for you!"  
She gave him a thumbs-up, while Jean was staring at them with wide eyes. Confused, the eyes flitted across Jeremy's face, searching for the meaning of the words. Jeremy finally came to his senses when Renee apparently didn't think it was necessary to enlighten Jean.  
"This is our small but fine equivalent of THE sock. I can tell you from my own painful experiences with my team."

Jean frowned. "The sock?"  
At first Jeremy believed the words being a wry joke. Who did not know THE sock at the door? Everyone knew that...didn't they?  
Jean, however, made no attempt to break up his joke, so Jeremy realized after a few seconds that the young man sitting next to him had no idea about this university tradition. And this at the age of 21. Fucking Edgar Allan.

Jeremy sighed deeply and smiled. "When someone has his girlfriend or boyfriend visiting and wants some privacy, there is this room in our house. If you don't want to be disturbed, you lock the door, or there's a sock on the door," he explained and saw that this met with understanding. Satisfied, Jeremy nodded and glanced at Renee, who looked at him with a raised eyebrow and shook her head while rolling her eyes.

"By the way, the tall guy next to you likes scrambled eggs for breakfast," she mentioned apparently out of context and Jeans' head shot up in alarm.  
"Renee!", he hissed, as if she had revealed his most intimate secrets, which made Jeans' almost horrifyingly loveable in Jeremy's eyes.  
"Yes, Jean?" she asked innocently, while Jeremy grinned.  
"With toast?", he quickly asked, taking advantage of the good opportunity to playfully find out more about the eating habits of his room neighbor.  
"Two slices."  
"Renee!"

As little as Jeremy liked the latent despair in Jeans voice, he didn't allow himself to be dissuaded from soaking up her words and their exchange like a sponge.  
"Scrambled eggs with two slices of toast, yes," he nodded curtly and turned to Jean, who looked at him as if he were the devil himself.  
"I told you so. I should have made a bet with you, Moreau, I would have been rich," Renee moaned and Jean snorted.  
"You are rich."  
"Even richer!"

Jeremy watched the exchange with astonishment. "A bet?" he asked, and before Renee could answer him, it was Jean who shrugged his shoulders.  
"The junkies are addicted to gambling and betting on anything that's not nailed down."

Blinking, Jeremy tried to follow the words, their intonation and Jean's voice coloring, which was so much different than anything the ex-Raven had told him before. There was a pejorative coldness in his voice, which was interspersed with so much cynicism that Jeremy inevitably wondered if Jean wasn't insulting Renee with his words. The tone he had just heard was exactly the backliner Jean Moreau, whom Jeremy had met in recent years. And yet he also thought he heard humor in it, even though Jeremy was not sure of it.

Not as sure as Renee, who grinned up to her ears. "We still have a bet going on," she said with some satisfaction and Jean rolled his eyes again. Fascinated, Jeremy watched him, him and his open facial expressions, which he apparently gave Renee so generously, as he so vehemently denied them to Jeremy himself.  
"Tell Josten and Minyard...", Jean began, but Renee clicked her tongue rebukingly.  
"Tell them yourself, the numbers are saved in your phone."

What exactly was wrong with this sentence, Jeremy could not say exactly. However, it caused any openness in Jean's face to give way to a lack of expression that almost hurt physically. Renee noticed this change of mood as much as he did and sighed.  
"Go ahead, ask him," she gently asked Jean. Shaking his head silently, Jean refused her, his gaze lowered and his eyes pointedly turned in another direction. It was all about him, recognized Jeremy and, asking, he tilted his head. Jean should - and wanted? - ask something, but didn't dare?  
"Jean. It's okay," he said, hopefully calm enough to not stop the backliner from asking his question. "What do you want to know?"  
An expectant, but also tense quiet returned between the two of them. Jeremy needed patience for this, but in the end it paid off when Jean looked up again and first met Renee's gaze, who nodded to him silently.

Only then did he half turn to Jeremy, his whole attitude programmed for defense. "May I... keep the phone?" Jean finally asked, maltreating his lower lip restlessly between his teeth. Confused, Jeremy tried to make sense of the question.  
"It's your phone. Why shouldn't you be allowed to?"  
The surprise he saw in the gray eyes hurt. It hurt and tore at his naive idea that everyone had human rights that had to be respected. Apparently, Jean had not experienced it that way, which even reached up to the possession of a cell phone.

"Am I allowed to write with others?"  
If the previous question had been already bad, this one neatly broke Jeremys heart. Why shouldn't Jean be allowed to do that? Why should anyone forbid him?  
"Was it forbidden in Evermore?", he asked cautiously and was rewarded with a nod, which, through its neutrality and expressionlessness, revealed much of the suffering that lay behind it.  
"With us, everyone has the freedom to do what they want and writing messages with oder talking on a cell phone or expressing their own opinion is clearly part of it. We see limits only in hard drugs, criminal offences and discriminatory or racist behaviour.“  
Jean thought about Jeremy‘s words for a few moments and finally dared to make eye contact again.  
"Thank you."  
It almost physically hurt Jeremy to be thanked for something so trivial. Just as it hurt him that Jean's tone of voice was so different from the one he used with Renee. Jean wasn't afraid of her, but he was apparently afraid of him.  
"No need to thank me," he answered with his throat closed and smiled forced. Jean blinked and then swallowed. He glanced briefly at his cell phone and Renee nodded in the corner of Jeremy's eye.

"Would you like to go back to the mall, Jean?" Jeremy asked, alone to distract him from the bad topic, and received a shake of the head.  
"The small store..." In itself, the sentence made no sense and Jeremy realized belatedly that it was actually a request.  
"Sure. I'd love to."  
"Buy something not black, it'll look good on you," Renee interfered and attracted attention from both of them. Jean said nothing, only Jeremy grinned.  
"Aye aye, boss lady," he agreed and she stuck her tongue out at him.  
"I'm expecting a picture, Jean," she admonished him, and Jean made an indeterminate sound of agreement.

Jeremy himself rose with a groan and knocked the dust off his shorts. He took his time until Jean had said goodbye to Renee and then turned around. Calmly he looked Jean in the eyes and reached out his hand to his backliner to pull him up.

They had been in a similar position before. They had played against the Ravens and Jeremy had actually managed to get through to Jean, with the result that they both had fallen to the ground. Jeremy had picked himself up first and had seen that Jean was apparently still too dazed to get back up himself. He had reached out his hand to him, but Jean had knocked it away with a scornful look, only to laboriously and obviously in pain try to get himself up again.

Now it was different. Jean measured his hand as if it could give him an answer to Jeremy's motivation. The moment between the two of them dragged on for long seconds before he actually let Jeremy help him up. Jeremy smiled with joy.  
"Ajeet wasn't going to hurt you. He is a big, sweet bear who hugs everyone who comes near him. He's happy you're with us, so he hugged you."  
Jean met his gaze with too much doubt before giving him a minimal nod. Silently, he turned to the car and put his hand on the passenger side door handle, apparently waiting for Jeremy to unlock.

"Umm..." Jeremy rubbed his neck with embaressement. "This is not my car..."

Slowly Jean turned to him. He was piercingly stared at and Jeremy smiled crookedly as he pointed to his old car behind them and noticed that the backliner's ears were blushing. Like…really blushing. Needless to say that Jeremy was charmed.

"I wouldn't drive around in such a goddam awful rust truck," he joked, reaping the jackpot for the whole day: a snort that was well on his way to be amused.

Not bad for the fifth day.

~~~~~~~~~~  
To be continued.

Chapter 8

Jean watched Knox's usual sleep ritual of spinning around, pillow creasing, and making noises as he sat on his own bed and listened to his body screaming at him to get some sleep. Not that it held the slightest possibility für Jean. Not in this bed, this room. Not near Knox, not within earshot of the other boy, who would surely be awakened by his nightmare induced screams Jean did not want to explain.

But Jean knew that he had to sleep and so the sheer necessity of physical need outweighed his fear of reprisals.  
The question of where he could lie down had been answered involuntarily by Knox when he showed him the cellar. There was a storage room there that was apparently not often used. At night he would probably be safe there and no one would hear him when Jean, trapped in his dreams, would scream and lash out.

Jean rose, his heart wildly beating. Never before had he sneaked away from his captain at night. Never before had he been so rebellious and disobedient to resist his situation. He was correspondingly nervous when he picked up his cell phone and his own apartment key and stepped silently into the hallway. 

For minutes Jean listened to Knox's noises and then opened the door, stepping out into the quiet hallway. Silently he closed it again and paused for a moment. When nothing stirred, he went down into the basement, whose crispness and darkness were inevitably familiar to him. There was no light, no stars and no sun. Here was Los Angeles as dark as Evermore ever had been. Alone this feeling and the connected habit, bitter and cynical as it was, calmed his fluttering nerves.

It was Evermore without Riko.

Jean found the room again after some searching and discovered a small space between boxes on the floor where he could lie down. The floor would be cool and hard, nothing he wasn't already used to. The boxes would be a good visual barrier between him and possible intruders who would enter the room.

Slowly Jean let himself sink to the floor and leaned his aching back against the basement wall. The giant monster of a goalkeeper had struck one of the healing injuries on his back and he already suspected that there would be a problem with it next week during the medical examination.  
Jean closed his eyes and listened to the silence of the basement while his thoughts involuntarily returned to his new captain.

Knox was a problem for him. A big one. A Renee-kind of problem.

His plan to push the other boy away from him and to keep him away from himself was still valid, but however strictly Jean had set out to do this, Knox broke through this resolution so easily with his enduring gentleness, his considerate gestures and respectful words.  
When he had fled from the apparent violence of the USC goalkeeper, it had been Renee who had guided him through the panic attack he had inevitably slipped into after finding his safe place in the parking garage. He had again reached out his hand to her and asked her for help. She had heard him, as she had always heard him.

An act of incomprehension, even now.

Perhaps that had been the reason why Knox had had such an easy game with his emotions. With fear, caution, dismay, and even hope. As soon as Jean entered the mall, it had been hard for Jean to remain dismissive in his struggle against all the impressions he had experienced and to exclude the other boy and his never-ending explanations. Jean did not dare to tell Knox to shut up, so he let the captain's explanations about the stores and his home country rain down on him in all its wordy glory. Jean had even asked questions about Knox's life. Pointless questions in retrospect, because he would never be able to enjoy the vastness of Knox's parental home, no matter how wonderful such an environment looked in his imagination.

Renee teaming up with Knox was extremely dangerous, as she made Jean forget what boundaries he had to maintain with his captain. She opened him up to everything that should not be open to the blond boy. Knox now knew what he liked for breakfast. That in itself would have been a small matter if the captain had not agreed to allow him to have it once Renee had answered his questions.

As emphatically and vehemently as Jean had fought in recent years for the hope that had allowed him to survive day after day in Evermore, he was now waging war against the very part of his inner self that wanted to whisper to him that it was different than he had thought. That it could be different here than at Edgar Allan.

Jean could not and would not allow that to happen.

For years, he had been forced to have a partner, forced to not be alone. This indoctrination was now responsible for Jean's reluctance to scare Knox away. It made him scream internally in horror at the thought and the fight between the two sides almost robbed him of his sleep until he realized that his partner did not have to like him. Neither Josten nor Riko had had any positive feelings towards him. If he could achieve this status with Knox without him leaving him alone...

Slowly Jean lay down on the stone floor and put the hood of Renee's gift sweater over his head. The Rainbow Girl, as Knox had called her. Jean tried it out in his mind and had to admit to himself that he liked it.  
Just like her sweater, which gave him warmth, not only physically. He tucked his arm under his cheek, which wasn't exactly like the soft pillow he had bought, but was perfectly adequate. He had set his cell phone alarm clock to such an early time that he would wake up before Knox and could return without his captain noticing.

Jean pulled his legs to his body and closed his eyes. He knew the nightmares would come. Reliable as he was, his mind mirrored to him the terrible things Riko had done to him and had them done to him, just so that he would not forget who he was, where he belonged, and that his life had no value except to be a minor, broken tool.

~~**~~

To say that Jeremy was nervous would have been a blatant understatement.

He had every reason to be, because there were two battles to fight with an outcome he could not yet foresee.  
One was the reunion between Jean and Ajeet. The second one was the first training session with the former backliner of the Ravens, whose skills he had previously only known as impressive and terrifying.

After their conversation in the parking garage, Jean had retreated into his thoughtful silence, which Jeremy had filled with trivialities about SoCal and L.A. and the people who lived there.  
They had made it to the small athletic store where Jean had actually found his gear for training, including a gym bag that he had taken a long look at. Jeremy had not missed this and he had accidentally put it on the counter when Jean came out of the locker room with his sports gear. With his most charming smile he had defeated the rising resistance Jeremy had seen on the serious face.

The fact that the bag was the same color as the hooded sweater Jean had been wearing when he arrived here had not escaped Jeremy‘s notice.

This morning he had made Jean his preferred breakfast and had been rewarded with red ears again from the sleepy boy, whose dark circles under his eyes were not as dark as on the first days here.  
Jean had eaten all of the scrambled eggs with the two slices of toast and Jeremy had definitely not been able to suppress his satisfied smile.  
After their breakfast had he brought up Ajeet again, and this time it had been cool neutrality that had answered to Jeremy's careful words.

Which had let to this moment. He was standing here, fully dressed, in the court's players' cabin, tying his chin long hair in a half-ponytail while waiting for Jean to come out of the changing room. He had given the other boy space and time to get used to their court and to change in peace and solitude. This also meant that Jeremy had to keep his nervousness in check somehow, which in turn led to him running up and down the court stairs again and again, stretching himself briefly, running again, stretching...until Jean stepped out of the hallway and stared frowningly at him.

Jeremy paused and could not help but look at the unusual sight for a moment longer than it was appropriate. To see Jean in colors other than red and black was more than unusual and seemed disturbingly strange at first. The backliner's stature, however, was familiar to Jeremy. The balanced distribution of muscles over the body proportions made him a fearsome player and an attractive young man in equal measure. Jean wore the classic tight, short sports pants, with shorts on top. The long-sleeved shirt was also in dark blue and matched the black sweatbands around his wrists. Jean had also tied his hair back with a ribbon so that the terribly bald patches on his scalp were not visible.

They were here half an hour earlier than Ajeet and their coach so Jean could get used to his new practice ground in peace.  
"We're doing light exercises today, not much more than conditioning, speed and precision, since the coach probably won't have your protective gear with him yet. From next week on, we'll start the real training with the other Trojans."  
His words were met with a critical frown. "I am able to play without protective gear", Jean replied neutrally and Jeremy raised his eyebrow.  
"Is that how it was done in Evermore?", he asked neutrally and received a nod. In retrospect, he was not surprised, Jeremy admitted to himself. Nevertheless, he clearly had to define the boundaries of the Trojans, not that Jean got the wrong idea.

"We don’t do that at USC, we think differently. Protection is our top priority, at least when it comes to real training," he made their rules clear once again, more captain than player at this moment. Jeremy saw how Jean reacted rather unconsciously to this and tensed his shoulders.  
"Understood."  
Jeremy smiled conciliatory. "Come on, let's run a few easy laps and start stretching before Ajeet and the coach arrive.

Jean let him enter first and Jeremy closed the door behind them. Together they walked to the runnig course and Jeremy set a pace that Jean could easily maintain. It was slower than he would normally run, but given Jean's still unresolved health status and the injuries that had not yet healed completely, he preferred to be more careful.  
After four laps that hadn't even made Jean sweat despite the temperatures and despite the break, it was indeed the ex-Raven who spoke to him.

"Is this your normal pace?" he asked outrageously not out of breath at all and Jeremy shrugged his shoulders.  
"No, actually I'm running them a little bit faster. I just thought we'd take it slow because you're not quite back in shape yet."  
Jean snorted. "How many laps in total?"  
"Let's say six more," Jeremy returned and Jean nodded before he set a pace that was diametrically different from their previous one, leaving Jeremy wondering if they were already at the sprint or still warming up.

He tried to keep up to Jean's pace, but after another three laps Jeremy failed magnificently due to his own endurance and strength. He looked to Jean, who literally ran away from him and left him far behind. Slowly Jeremy got back into his own pace and cursed his semester break, during which he hadn't trained nearly hard enough for this in order to keep up with Jean, who seemed determined enough to win a marathon.

Kevin had started to tell him about Raven drills and Jeremy was amazed and appalled at the vicious and absolute discipline they had. Actually, he shouldn't have been surprised that Jean was used to a different pace and, as it seemed, continued to push himself to perform at his best.

When Jeremy came to him after his last lap, Jean was already stretching and just gave him a quick glance.  
"Don't tell me that's your normal speed," he puffed and dropped to the ground next to Jean. When Jeremy didn't get an answer, he set about loosening and warming up his muscles just like Jean did.

At least until Ajeet arrived and entered the stadium with a happy grin. He gently closed the Plexiglas door behind him, and even more cautiously entered the field. If the situation hadn't been so serious, Jeremy would have felt like screaming "The ground is lava!" at that moment, as much as Ajeet was moving on raw eggs. Perhaps that would have eased the tense silence a bit, but Jeremy didn't want to challenge his luck, so he kept silent and waved to Ajeet, who had already thrown himself into his red-gold Trojan uniform. Ajeet waved back shyly before his eyes turned to Jean, who pointedly ignored him, but watched him out of the corner of his eyes.

"Hey," he greeted and sat down next to them, his eyes still on Jean. "Um...Jean...hey...I just wanted to say I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking when I hugged you. If I scared you or if I hurt you or if you felt uncomfortable, then I'm sorry. Of course, I won't touch you if you..."  
"I do not need your pity or your excuses," Jean cut him off, and Jeremy frowned at the unexpected brusqueness oft he former Raven.  
"Jean...", he tried to divert the dismissive attention away from Ajeet, whose cheeks had turned fiery red from the unkind words. Jean just looked at him and Jeremy raised his eyebrows.  
"He means well. He doesn’t mean you any harm."  
Jean did not reply, but waited for something more to say, apparently pointedly. When Jeremy didn't say anything further, he shrugged his shoulders and returned to his stretches.

"Hey Ajeet, how about running a few laps and joining us after?"  
Relieved, his goalie nodded and rose to Jean with a last, uncertain look. They waited for a reaction...with no success.

"What the hell was that," Jeremy asked irritated, as Ajeet was on the run, far out of their hearing range. "He really didn't mean any harm. He was apologizing."  
At first it was as if Jean had no intention of answering him, but then the cool, gray eyes turned to him in all their repelling glory.  
"Is it an order that I should be nice to him... captain?"

Jeremy flinched at Jean's cold tone.   
"Of course not, I won't order you to be nice," he began doubtfully and was interrupted by Jean's snort.  
"I'm not here to be nice."  
A word could hardly be more contemptuous and Jeremy couldn't really make sense of where this sudden resentment came from. Neither against Ajeet nor his words.  
"Jean..."  
"I would like to ask permission to exercise."

Every one of Jeremy’s attempts to lure something other than rejection out of Jean failed. Again and again the other boy avoided him and treated him as if they hadn't spent the last few days together. As if they hadn't sat together on the parking garage floor yesterday and talked to Renee on the phone. Cool, neutral, dismissive, that's how the training turned out, even when Coach Rhemann came and supervised the whole thing.

Jean executed the drills and tasks set for him with almost perfect precision, without contradiction or hesitation. Every single movement was precisely calculated, every ball he played was precisely placed and without failure. Jeremy and Ajeet performed far worse, and more than once Rhemann growled disapprovingly at her laziness during the semester break. Jeremy wasn‘t surprised that they both got a penalty lap while Jean was allowed to take a shower, and fatefully, he moved his aching legs a bit longer.

"Cap?", his goalie called out of breath when they finally stopped and Jeremy turned to him with a sigh. "He's really mad at me, isn't he?"  
Perplexed, Jeremy shrugged his shoulders. "Honestly, I have no idea what's gotten into him. I've asked him, but he won't talk about it."  
"Have I done something wrong, Jer?"  
It took sometime for Jeremy to find an answer that did justice to both sides of the situation. "Maybe you should have asked him first if he wanted a hug. You're sorry, though. You said you were sorry. I'm sure he needs some more time to come to terms with the apology. After all, this is all new to him."  
Ajeet was not convinced by his answer, and if Jeremy admitted it, neither was he.

"I think that he didn't have an easy time with the Ravens and that he will have to settle in with us first," Jeremy said, keeping as close and as neutral to the truth as possible. "I hope that he will open up with time."  
Ajeet sighed. "You know, Jer, he reacted like my grandma when he was hugged."

Jeremy nodded. And wasn't his goalie right? His grandmother had fled from her husband's violence from India to America. She was a great woman and they all loved her and she loved her grandson's team, but it was clear that each of the Trojans had to keep a certain kind of distance from her. It was a remnant of the violence she had suffered for years.

"I know, Ajeet, I know.

~~**~~

It was Monday and Jean had the feeling of being on his last legs.

Two days ago he had decided to fight the kindness of the two Trojans off with cold, aversion and silence, even though the goalkeeper's apology had left him both astonished and terrified. Never before had anyone on the team he played for apologized to him.  
He had underestimated how stubborn at least Knox was, who had showered him with the same kindness on Saturday and all Sunday. Every understanding look, every smile shattered Jean's resolution like acid.  
Jean could not remember that in Evermore he had ever found it so difficult to respond to questions with monosyllabic answers. He had never had any problems there to keep the words that pushed to the surface of his self-control.

Here it was the sky, the sun, and the people around him with their miserable friendliness that made him lose his way. Why was he asked what he would like to do? Why was he asked for his opinion? Why was he cared about?

Which of all these was by far the worst.

Knox worried about him. Jean could see that out of the corner of his eyes when his captain measured him in unobserved moments analyzing him. Jean was so disturbed by this that he could not even put into words the feeling that was smouldering inside him.  
Why did the blond boy do this? He hadn't even been a member of his team for what... a week? He was not even a decent human being. He was...property.

Jean could already feel how dangerous Knox's presence was. He hesitated to call himself such. Cal himself property. After a week and after two assurances from a boy he didn't even really know. His iron walls became thin, frayed out just because of...what? Promises that would be broken? Words that were like smoke, without meaning?  
He desperately needed a regular daily routine, consisting only of training and study, where he could just concentrate on and exceed his limits.

Jean hated the little voice inside of him that told him that he would not get the exhausting training and the sixteen hour days he was used to from Evermore.  
This was apparently the price he paid for the fact that no one had ever hurt him or forced themselves onto him... a lax training. A college that gave the students time for leisure.

Free time.

With puzzlement Jean thought about this word. There was no free time for him. Jean lived for their sport, he lived for his task for which he had been bred. Formed by his Master and his deceased captain. Until recently, to read a book alone had seemed unthinkable to him. The nurse had proven him wrong, but yesterday he had Renee's book in his hand without actually reading it. This was not allowed. To go to the beach, as Knox had suggested. That was...unthinkable. Not possible. Not for him.

If Jean succumbed to the illusion that everything he had to learn so far, everything he had been taught was wrong, then everything what the Master and Riko had formed from the remains of his being they had broken, broke into a thousand pieces before he could put an end to his life himself.

Or was he really only afraid of the moment when he might realize that he wanted to live on, and then was disappointed by that very life? Worse still, not being allowed to live on because he had reached his usefulness for the Moriyamas?

Jean did not know and he was happy to be able to concentrate on other things right now. His matriculation, for example, which would complete his transfer from Edgar Allan to USC.

How much Jean had hated himself for having to answer with a no to his captain's far too calm, far too neutral question whether he would rather go to the secretary's office alone. How much he hated himself for his dependance, which at the same time gave him hell for not being able to break free, but had to break free because Knox's presence was dangerous for him. 

Jean hated himself for the sense of calm that Knox gave him when he stood next to him while coach Rhemann and the woman from the student secretariat took care of the formalism that would make him a USC athletic scholarship student.

Jean watched in silence as his coach filled out the form for him and explained the various fields to him. He did not ask how the man got his social security number, which even he did not know. He also did not ask about the bank account number that was entered on the form. If Jean had to guess, he would guess that his scholarship would be reclaimed by Rhemann - it had been like this at Edgar Allan. Property had no right of ownership. He did not need money.

Vicky, at least that was the name on her sign, checked all the documents that had apparently been provided by Edgar Allan in the meantime.  
"There is a problem with your first minor, Mr. Moreau. It is not offered here. You would have to choose another one instead."  
She handed him one of the papers she had been brooding over and he stared at it without really understanding. Confused, he looked at Knox, then at his coach. In Evermore, the Master had ruled over his subjects, but Rhemann apparently made no attempt to take over this task for him.

Jean blinked.

"What would be appropriate?" he asked hesitantly into the room as the silence continued, and now explicitly addressed his coach, who measured him with raised eyebrows.  
"What would you like to do, boy?" he asked and Jean shrugged his shoulders helplessly. How could he make a choice if he had no right to his own interests?  
"How about if I give you a short description of the subjects and you decide afterwards, Mr. Moreau," the woman suggested and after his coach's approval, Jean nodded as well.

Not that he was much wiser afterwards than before. Or that it would play a role...actually. Two months, he had to remind himself of the promise he had made. After two months, the choice of a minor would not matter at all.  
"You like reading, don't you?" Knox stopped his thoughts and Jean nodded. Perhaps... he did not know. At Evermore, everything except for literature that was part of his studies had been forbidden to him.  
"How about literary history?"

Basically, Jean didn't mind. He liked the few moments he had spent reading Renee's book and already felt like reading more. So maybe he should stop testing the patience of his coach and his captain and agree.  
Jean nodded. "Yes," he simply said.  
Vicky nodded and devoted herself to her PC. Fascinated, Jean watched the printer, who now spit out the sheets that would identify him as a student at USC, with his matriculation number, student ID and library card.  
He confirmed receipt with a signature that he had gotten used to writing with broken fingers and finally held the things that would mean perfect normality for a human being in his hands. Jean saw something like this for the first time.

"Do you have any more questions?"

He shook his head silently. He would certainly be led wherever he needed to go, so he didn't have to remember the buildings and paths. Moreover, he would not leave the Trojan's residence or only on the instructions of his captain.  
Doubtfully, he looked into the broad smile of the woman. "Well then, on behalf of USC, I welcome you to our wonderful, chaotic college and hope you have a great time with us!

Jean stared at her wordlessly. Why would you wish for something like that? To have a great time at the university? He had never heard such words before and they seemed like mockery in the face of the atmosphere of fear and oppression that had prevailed at Edgar Allan. A cult, Josten had called Evermore and he had been right. In retrospect.

"Thank you, Vicky," Rhemann said and tore Jean from his dark memories. It was necessary to keep up appearances. Hastily he nodded and followed the man outside, trapped between his coach and Knox. It was not necessary to prevent him from escaping, not even out here. He knew how to behave.

Only when they stood in the shade of a few mighty trees Rhemann handled him another large envelope.  
"Here, this is for you. I have opened a bank account for you. Inside are your cards and pin numbers, your social security card and your passport, in other words, everything that Edgar Allan has sent us.

Jean stared at the thick envelope with incomprehension. He did not quite understand the words Rhemann said to him He hadn't had his passport since he had first come to America. Only when they had flown to away games Riko had handed it over to him and immediately took it away again. Why should he keep it himself now, just like his social security card? Jean thought about asking Rhemann, as a demanding hand reached out and advised him to simply accept the envelope. Cautiously, Jean reached for it, and it was no trick at all. Gently, Rhemann growled and turned to Knox.

"I expect you to be in better shape by Wednesday than the crippled performance of Saturday, Knox. Understood?"  
His captain rolled his eyes as if in pain. "Yes, Coach Sir, as you wish, Coach Sir," he groaned in agony and Jean was once again amazed at the lack of respect he missed in his voice. How could Rhemann put up with that?

But again nothing happened. The man growled, yes. But that was it. "Don't follow you captain's example, Moreau. If your excellent condition matches this snail, I'll let you run extra laps too, understand?"  
"As you wish, Sir," Jean pressed out, unsure what the right answer was, especially considering that Rhemann was already laughing and turning away before he could apparently think of anything else.  
"Oh, and Moreau?"  
"Yes, Sir?"  
"We are not in Evermore, and Moriyama can shove his "Sir" up his ass. I'm the Coach or coach Rhemann. Understood?"  
For the better part of a minute, Jean was busy staring at his new coach, stunned by his choice of words, wondering if anyone had ever spoken about the Master in such an disrespectful way. Then Jean remembered an answer and nodded hastily. "Yes...coach," he pressed out.  
"Good. And now, sod off into the sunshine, kids. It's enough if one of us three spends his time in the office."

So he spoke, leaving them on campus. Jean stared at the envelope in his crooked hands, which had been exposed to more sunshine in the last days than in the entire nine years before them. Astonished, Jean looked down at them before he glanced up at the blue sky above them that seemed so tempting.

Take another good look at the sky again, because you will only see it again when you leave Evermore.

That's what he had said to Josten when he had brought the boy to Evermore. They both had only seen the sky again when Josten had been taken to the airport. Josten had made it through, and for two months now he, too, had been allowed to look up into orbit every day and night and get lost in the clouds, the sun, the stars and the moon, which were so beautiful that it hurt him.  
Especially now that he was able to hold something like a normal life in his hands and pretend to be a normal student. With a passport, a social security card, an account.

"How do I do the money transfers?" Jean asked and glanced at Knox's face, who was just blowing the half-length strands of hair that had come loose from the braid out of his eyes. His red t-shirt had his name in gold lettering on the back, as if the other students didn't already know who he was.  
"Money transfers?"  
"To coach Rhemann."  
Knox frowned, then smiled conciliatory. "Jean, you don't have to pay him back for that."  
"I was talking about the scholarship."

Confusion crept across the freckled, tanned face. "What do you mean?"  
"Coach Rhemann will want the money after all," Jean, for his part, now noted irritatedly and met with growing incomprehension.  
"Why should he?"  
Jean wondered whether the other boy was deliberately playing dumb or whether the Trojans handled it differently. Perhaps he should have asked Rhemann directly? "Because it belongs to him," he clarified, and the blond eyebrows lifted.  
"It belongs to you. It's your scholarship," Knox countered and Jean frowned.

How could anything belong to him? That... was unimaginable.  
"No," he contradicted. "It cannot be."  
"Yes, Jean. Why would coach..." In the middle of the movement Knox faltered and Jean was almost instantly in the focus of this devouring attention, which did not bode well for him.  
"No, Jean." The firm determination with which his captain told him that he had been wrong caused Jean a shiver of discomfort that crept up his back. There was a lack of gentleness in this denial, a lack of the sun in the voice he heard so many times in the last week. It was as if he had done something wrong that he did not know what it was.

And that was life threatening.

Jean swallowed and wanted to apologize when Knox shook his head. "Our coach will never take away your scholarship. It's all yours. The money you receive from the college is yours to use as you please. The account he set up for you is yours alone, no one else has access to it. You decide what to do with the money."  
"Me? But this..." Jean did not know what to do. Anything he would say would bring him back to the point where Knox told him that he was not a property. That was impossible. Not him. He was just...  
"Jean, I meant it when I told you that you were part of our team. You belong to no one but yourself. Your account, your passport, your social security number. Whatever they did with it in the Edgar Allan, here its yours. You are the one who owns all this and who decides what happens to it."

To be honest, Jean had no idea how to make these decisions.

"I don't know how," he finally admitted and turned his gaze away, to one of the red buildings that looked so much friendlier than in West Virginia.  
"Hey, that's what I'm here for. I'm here to help you."

There it was again. There was Knox's dangerous quality of drawing him to his side, of trusting him and suggesting that he could trust him. That everything would be okay. How Jean wanted to believe him in a split second. Something in him battled with all his might against the barriers he had to face, and this something felt the heavy burden of the envelope in his hand like an anchor chaining him to this reality.

There was no question that Jean could and should not allow to believe it. Nevertheless, the part of him that wanted the support nodded, however small and insignificant it might be. Jean silently cursed at himself and made it clear that he would only take advantage of this help when it was absolutely necessary.

They silently made their way back to the house and Jean was lulled by the constant slapping of Knox's sandals on the sidewalk stones. He let his thoughts wander to the breadth of sounds and smells that overwhelmed him in every second of his being here.

Even here, on the campus, where everything was clean and tidy, Jean couldn't really tell everything apart, but had to let himself drift with the impressions. The chirping of the birds. From the warmth of the sun's rays on his skin, which effortlessly dispelled the cold of Evermore. The smell of the sea that had permeated the whole city. From smells and sounds he could not identify. And all people smiled, if they weren't even beaming. Especially when Knox ran into them, which Jean observed once again as they headed back to the Trojan house.

It made Jean wonder what would have become of him if he had been allowed to live a normal life and develop as a human being. A dangerous question, Jean found, and buried it in the last corner of his mind.

"So... what do you think of the Art District," Knox pulled him out of his thoughts, and Jean looked up, irritated, at the grass of the open spaces. The words didn't mean anything to him, so he waited for Knox to explain what he meant. Jean could not quite understand that his ignorance was met with enthusiasm, and the joy on the tanned face made him cautious.

"This is the one and only district in Los Angeles that you have to see, Jean! Lots of cool exhibitions and streetstyle art."  
It explained at least partly what Knox wanted from him, but Jean couldn't really figure it out. He didn't know what to think of the district he didn't know and had never heard of before. Especially since art had been something that had been withheld from him in Evermore.

The principle had been that there were no other interests to be had besides Exy. Everything beyond that had been unnecessary ballast.

"Would you like to visit the district?" Knox specified what he wanted from him and Jean swallowed. It was a direct question, even if he wasn't able to answer it. Did he feel like it? Whether he wanted to? Still caught in the vicious circle of finding an answer, Knox's smile lost some of its radiance and became softer.  
"How about this? We go there and if you don't like it, we just come back here?"

Jean knew that he should say no. He knew that he had to refuse if he wanted to stick to his plan.  
But his cheeky mouth, which blurted out an "Okay." into the summer' s day without consent, did not know that. Knox was not deterred either by the lack of intonation or by his iron refusal to look at the other boy and clapped his hands enthusiastically, which made Jean flinch at first.

Yet Knox was not Riko and no violence followed.

"Oh. Who are they?"

At first Jean couldn't make anything out of the question and only saw that Knox had stopped when he raised his gaze and became aware of the two big black SUVs standing in front of the Trojan's house. As if Jean's heartbeat wasn't already alarmingly elevated, there were now two black-clad security guards from the Moriyamas standing at the entrance to the building, fixing them with a calm gaze.

Not them. Him.

They fixed him.

~~**~~

Chapter nine

If Jean's heart was beating much faster, it would simply stop and stand still at some point in the near future, probably within the next few minutes. Perhaps that wouldn't be too bad an ending considering the men standing not far from them blocking the way back into the Trojan's house and therefore the room with the window from which Jean could see the stars. The red and gold and completely chaotic one, the living and breathing antithesis to Evermore.

Where they would no doubt bring him back to.

As if rooted, Jean stood still, the envelope of his supposed freedom like a dead weight in his hand. For two months he had been free from the thick walls and code-protected cellars that made up Evermore and now they would call him back. He would never see the sun again, just as he would never again follow the path of the stars or watch a robot making its way across a deserted planet.  
The Master would punish him and punish and punish until there was nothing left of Jean.

The thought of running away and ending his life more quickly and more graciously gained a certain appeal, but in the end Jean was unable to do so, for the same reason that he had set himself a two-month deadline. Jean was not brave enough, had never been. He would have liked to shout out his despair, but he didn't dare to do so either. He stood there like a statue and watched with growing fear that the two men were coming towards him.

It was Knox who pulled him out of his stupor by putting a hand on his arm. More than anything else, the combination of physical contact and everything concerning the Moriyama family was not a good one and made Jean flinch as if his captain had touched him with a red-hot iron. A feeling he knew only too well.  
"Jean, are those men from Evermore?", Knox asked almost in panic, and Jean wondered involuntarily why he was the one whose voice was doused with fear. "Talk to me, Jean! Are those Moriyama's men?"  
He had apparently nodded - even though he couldn't remember.

"Run!", his captain's order was almost too sharp and harsh for him not to follow. His legs almost started to move before he remembered that the Moriyamas were above everything, even his captain's orders. Of course, Jean would bear the punishment for this if he ever returned to Los Angeles. Unlikely, but at that moment Jean realised that he would a thousand times rather bear any punishment that Knox imposed on him than fall into the hands of the Master again.

Jean silently shook his head and stilled when the men reached him. Again it was Knox who did the talking for him.  
"Get out of here or I'll call campus security," his captain bravely faced the men, who measured him like an annoying insect before focusing on Jean. Only now did Jean notice that Knox stood between him and them. 

The left one of them cleared his throat, pointedly ignoring the captain of the Trojans. "Mr. Moreau, Mrs. Suarez would like to speak to you and we would like you to come with us."

Jean frowned. Mrs. Veronica Suarez was the senior corporate lawyer of the Moriyamas. She would not bother with such a trifle as his return to Evermore. She was the one to do the legal dirty work, the grey eminence behind the main branch's horrible deals.

"Jean, you are not going do that," Knox pulled him out of his thoughts and, naive as he was, turned to the men standing before him. "And you will leave the campus now."

To be honest, Jean would never have thought that Knox's voice could sound so vicious. So angry. Jean wished he could hide behind that voice from the men in black and escape them, but he couldn't. Maybe Knox wouldn't be in danger because he wasn't one of them. The Trojans were pure and unsullied by the illegal activities of the family.  
"Please go into the house," Jean addressed his first words to Knox, his eyes respectfully lowered to the ground.  
"No, Jean, I'm not leaving you alone. Remember, we're a team, and we're not gonna let each other down."

How much Jean had always wanted Kevin to say these words and how painful the feeling of betrayal had been when the other boy had suddenly left and never returned to Evermore. How bitter his loneliness and sense of betrayal had been.  
How Jean had wished for more words like this to show him that there was only one person on earth who felt some kind of affection for him and did not treat him like an annoying, useless thing.

As much as he had wished for it, they came too late now, leaving nothing but painful splinters of broken hope in him.

"This is not a matter for the team. This is about something entirely different," Jean Knox tried to calm down, even if that met with little understanding.  
"No, you don't have to be afraid, Jean. We'll get through this."  
Jean snorted and shook his head in the face of such naivety. He took one step around Knox and was now the one who stood between him and Evermore. His captain didn't like that at all and raised his hand in protest, apparently to hold him back. Jean backed away from him.

"It's all right, Knox," he pressed out harshly. "I've expected nothing else."  
"No, it's not all right. I'm calling the police, this is kidnapping, they won't get away with it!"  
If he was honest, Jean did not understand Knox's resistance to his return to Evermore. He hardly knew him. He'd only known him for a week. He had more than enough backliners in his 28-person team, so what did it matter whether he was here or not?  
"Your assessment in this regard is flawed. Please..." Yes, what exactly did Jean ask for? That Knox did not risk his own life? That he didn't tie this apparently still pure team with some kind of contract to a crime syndicate that would gut them and blackmail them? Tarnish them?

The right of two men cleared his throat and only now did Jean notice that his ear was wired up. "Mrs. Suarez would like to point out that this is merely a conversation to be conducted in private. It has no effect on the contract concluded with the local college and is intended to clarify any ambiguities that may have arisen.

Both Knox and he paused in surprise. Jean blinked without understanding and wondered if this was a trap. But why should they bother, if he would go along with them?  
"What does it mean?" Knox spoke again and the man measured him with a raised eyebrow.  
"That means that this conversation will take place in the car and you will stay here, Mr Knox. If you call security or otherwise draw attention to yourself in a negative way, this conversation will continue in a place you do not know and I would like to guarantee that it will not be a pleasant conversation for Mr Moreau. It is up to you and your cooperation to decide how the conversation between Mrs Suarez and Mr Moreau will proceed".

Playing one off against the other was Evermore at the bottom of its deep black heart. So Jean was not surprised that the man resorted to such methods, even though it clearly shocked Knox. Inevitably Jean wondered how good and naive someone could be to be shocked by this.

"How do I know you're not lying to me and kidnapping him anyway?"  
"Our clients have no interest in continuing his contract with Evermore." More than anything else, these words gave Jean hope that he could stay here. They didn't want him back? That was the best and at the same time most terrible news he had heard in the last few months. He didn't have to go back into the darkness... but after all he had sacrificed for them over the last years, they rejected him.

"I'm going with you."  
"Jean!

He did not react, but took a step forward, then another step. At the third he stumbled over his own feet, but caught himself again and continued walking towards his destiny. Jean couldn't bear the sight of the SUVs, so he directed it towards the grass on the sideways, which was so wonderfully green, and traced the sun burning on his skin. He memorised it as if it were the most precious thing in the world. The smell of summer accompanied him as he made his way into the black car whose door opened and whose cold darkness swallowed him as the gates of Evermore had done each time.

Jean looked at Mrs Suarez and followed her finger pointing to the bench that was still empty. He sat down in silence and lowered his gaze to the ground, as he had been taught to do. Silently, how he had to behave, until the woman whose name he had only seen as a shadow before addressed him.  
The only time she had been in Evermore was after Kevin's escape. Jean had not been conscious enough at that time to take any notice of her presence.

This mercy was not granted to him now and he felt her burning gaze on him as he kept his eyes on her legs. The envelope that would mark him as a human was crushed under the tension of his fists.  
"Good afternoon, Mr Moreau."  
Jean just nodded.  
"I see that your arrival here in South California went just as smoothly as your enrolment at the USC and you have already familiarised yourself with your new captain."

The way she stressed familiar made him look up after all and he dared to take a look at the woman who could destroy the lives of so many with the flick of a pen. She had had her black, grey-streaked hair styled chin-length. Despite the heat she wore a suit. Unimpressed, she stared into his eyes.  
"He doesn't know anything", Jean felt compelled to make it clear under her burning gaze and she reached for the documents lying on the bench next to her.  
"Of course not. Who, if not you, knows best that the greatest virtues are loyalty and discretion, Mr Moreau?"

Her words were like mockery for Jean. Property knew no loyalty. Property could not be faithful. But something human in him rebelled against the woman's words. Riko had tortured and had let him be tortured for years. He had neither earned nor bought fidelity with that, he had forced it into him through fear. Yet Jean did not dare to contradict her, even though the horrors of the past were very clear in his thoughts   
and undoubtfully also in his eyes. Jean lowered his gaze when, as he knew, it became too readable.   
Of course her words were also a warning to him and a reminder of the contract Josten had made with Lord Moriyama.

She cleared her throat. "At the instigation of the director of Edgar Allan University, an investigation has been launched into the apparently disgraceful circumstances surrounding the assault and violence inflicted on different players of the Edgar Allan Ravens. Investigations in recent weeks and months have confirmed the initial suspicion of abusive practices in several hundred cases. In most of these cases, you are part of these cases.

Every word she said was like the blade of Riko's knife that made its way under Jean's   
skin without mercy. An investigation in which his name had appeared? For what purpose? There was no doubt that he was property and that property could be used as the owner wanted, as long as he was able to fulfill his purpose.

"In those investigations, videos were also seized which testified massive bodily harm and multiple acts of involuntary sexual intercourse.

Jean flinched as if he had been burned. He stared at the floor of the car with eyes wide with terror as his hands crumpled up the envelope. His heart pounded in his ears as he understood the implications of this. Videos. There were videos of him while they... while they... they had made videos. He leaned forward and a sound of horror left his lips.  
Riko had tortured him. He had let other players into his bed to show him his place and find an answer to the question of whether a sexual trauma was different or worse than one without sexual humiliation. Five times he had done so, surrounded by countless times Riko had broken his bones, pushed him off stairs, slashed and burned his body…

Jean choked off his thoughts. If he continued to enumerate everything Riko and others had done to him, he would throw up in this car. Whether he would survive that, he did not know. Perhaps it would be better if he didn't.

Videos... there were videos.

"How often did it happen?"

Jean didn't know whether to laugh or choke because of this question. The Moriyamas were almighty and had a worldwide criminal network, but to find out how often he had been raped they needed his help. This was pathetic, if it didn't make him feel so disturbed and frightened, because it stirred up memories in him that he would have preferred to leave in the shallows of his memories.

"Is..." Jean had to clear his throat so that his voice was at least audible in the beginning. "Is the number important?"  
"Yes. She didn't explain why and certainly he had no right to the answer, no matter what this question did to him. He closed his eyes briefly to find strength, but the blackness behind his cosed eyelids only made it more impossible for him, so he looked at the floor of the car again.  
"Five times."

How innocent the words sounded. How little they revealed about what had been forced upon him until he had stopped fighting back. Until he had become boring enough. Jean looked at his hands that trembled. He had been grateful to Riko that his late captain had stopped torturing him in this way. Grateful to the person who was responsible for all this.  
That was sick, Jean knew that.

She reached for her mobile phone and typed something. The soft ping of a message made him flinch, as did her eyes, which were directed at him with all their forcefulness.

"Lord Moriyama has deep respect for the families of his business partners entrusted to him, because only with mutual loyalty and trust is it possible to lead the company to undreamt-of greatness and to hold it there.  
Jean did not know what to do with their words, he just nodded.

"This trust goes both ways."  
Trust. What a nice word for mutual dependencies, extortion, organized crime and torture.  
"If a business partner pays his tribute and strengthens the relationship with it in trust based on mutual respect, it would turn out to be intolerable if Lord Moriyama treated this tribute with less respect than it was given to him."

Mrs Suarez fell silent, and Jean had the opportunity to reflect on her words. Not that it helped him much, because he was neither a business partner nor was he human enough to be part of the illegal business. Even if he had been, he would not have wanted it. The involvement of his family in this kind of business had brought him nothing, only humiliation and torture, the theft of his adolescence and innocence.

"Lord Moriyama is not willing to let it go unnoticed that the rapes brought shame on the eldest son of his valued business partner and that, by his own blood, shame was brought upon the honorable Moriyama family.  
Jean's head jerked up so abruptly that he thought he had dislocated a neck vertebra. Mrs Suarez neutrally examined him as if she was talking about the weather.

"The Moreaus have been respected allies since Marseilles. You, Mr Moreau, were handed over to the second branch as a gesture of trust to help settle an imbalance. As an investment in a common future. The actions and orders of the late captain have diminished that investment and this is an unacceptable state of affairs that Lord Moriyama intends to revise. She reached behind her, and at the first moment Jean expected her to pull a gun. Accordingly pointlessly, he pulled up his arms and tried to protect himself from the coming death when he realized after a few moments that no bullet would follow.

Mrs Suarez was holding a bowl in her hand, made of black porcelain, which was interspersed with golden streaks of lacquer, seemingly arranged without any structure. It contained two envelopes.  
She held it between them and Jean understood that he was supposed to accept it. The fact that it took him three attempts to do so, because his fingers were shaking so much, did not in the least disturb her.

"Your skills, Mr. Moreau, are precious and profitable, especially looking ahead to the coming years. They are a valuable investment for Lord Moriyama and he would like to express his deep regret about his brother's actions. This vase and its contents are a sign of his sorrow for the boy's actions".

She pointed to the black envelope that lay on top and with trembling fingers Jean picked it up, held it in front of him, waiting for further orders.  
"Open it."  
Jean nodded and did as he was told. Trembling, he balanced the porecelain on his clenched knees. Clumsy, he took out the document it contained and watched in horror as a card fell to the car floor. It took him two attempts to pick it up and only then did he take a look at the contents of the document, the meaning of which was not clear to him.

He had never had a problem with numbers, so it was easy for him to apply his skills to his main subject. This one and its meaning, however, did not become clear to him, even after repeated glances. Jean felt his heart beating in an unsteady rhythm when he found himself unable to follow her instructions.  
Jean swallowed. "I don't understand the meaning," he whispered.  
"This is the data for your bank account," she gave the document a meaning and Jean stared at the words printed on his documents.

His eyes flitted over the name of the bank as well as the account details and he frowned as he realized that his name was on the card and the number of this account was apparently identical to the number on the card. Confused, Jean frowned, but did not dare to say aloud the question he was asking. For example, why his name was registered as owner.

"This account was registered for you and you have sole access to the amount that was being transferred to this account. It is not subject to the Moriyama family's percentage share of your income and is therefore entirely at your disposal. Furthermore, Lord Moriyama wishes to inform you that the contract made with Mr Josten regarding the percentage share is no longer valid for you as of this moment. You will pay a percentage of sixty percent of the coming income from your profession as a professional player. Your sports scholarship remains unaffected.

Jean did not really understand what she was saying, but he did not find the courage to ask. He also did not find the courage to nod, but accepted what she told him without reacting. It was as if his thoughts did not want to understand what he had just been given. As a sign of...regret? Because shame had been brought upon him and therefore upon his family who had sold him?

Something that felt horribly like the anger he had held when he first came to Evermore was stirring in him. He wanted none of this here. He wanted none of this to ever happen. Jean pressed his lips together. They gave him money to cure him? Cure him of what? The broken shattered pile of glass that Riko had made of him over the years?

For the first time in a long time, Jean wanted to hit someone again. The woman, the men outside of this car, even the Lord and the Master. He wanted to tear them all apart for what they had done to him, and yet he couldn't even muster up the strength to nod, so the rage remained within him, smouldering in the remnants of his being, scratching at the prison of his forced self-control. But in the end it was unmistakable clear to him that he had to react respectfully.

"I would like to thank the Moriyama family for their kindness," he pressed out in years of indoctrination what he had never felt. Not since they had dragged him here. Mrs Suarez took note of this, but nothing more. As if the conversation between the two of them had not taken place, she turned to her cell phone. She looked up briefly.  
"You may leave, Mr Moreau."

The car door opened and let in sunlight, piercing and blinding. Jean blinked and squinting his eyes together at the first moment before he painstakingly peeled himself out of the car, his body trembling with tension. Of course... as soon as he raised his eyes, he found himself facing Knox, who was apparently waiting for his return with a sorrowful expression on his face. The two guards returned to the cars in silence and Jean heard more than he saw them driving off, leaving him alone with his captain, who now rushed to him as if he wanted to hit him. Jean flinched back, the bowl and documents pressed against his chest and brought distance between them as quickly as he could.

"Don't", it took away from him, even though he had no right to this word. It had never earned him anything. But now it did, because Knox stopped. On the spot, as if this one word was important. Hesitantly he paused.

"Jean?"

It was the plea for an explanation Jean could not provide. Mutely, he ignored his captain and watched unmoved as the two cars took off and drove away. When they were out of sight, Jean involuntarily wondered whether the whole thing had really happened. He gritted his teeth. Actually, he should be happy. They had not taken him with them. Instead, Mrs Suarez had told him how valuable he was to the family. Because of or in spite of what had happened to him. They had reduced their share and set up a second account for him with an amount on it that he did not yet know. They paid him for being raped.

What was in the second envelope he still did not know.

Actually he should be relieved.

"Tell me, Knox..." he began, fearing the cold in his own voice. "...in your Art District, is there any answer to how much a life is worth?" Scornfully, he looked down at his captain, who glanced at him with an unusually pale face and big eyes.

~~**~~

What?

Worried Jeremy blinked. He had spent the last endless long minutes worried about Jean and himself, nervously holding on to his cell phone in his pocket.  
Again and again he had calculated his chances to call the campus security in time to get Jean out of the clutches of these obviously criminal people. In the end, he didn't dare to do what he had set out to do and stepped from one foot to the other, restless and anxious.

How could he have escaped if these people were blackmailing him with Jean's well-being?

And now the taller boy stood in front of him and stared at him with such disdain that Jeremy shuddered involuntarily. Jeremy suspected...no, he knew that it was not linked to him, but that made it only slightly better. With did they have to blackmail Jean that he had voluntarily followed into their car? What did they do to provoke such scorn?

Jeremy reached out his hand in Jean's direction. The gray eyes turned abruptly to the movement and Jeremy's hand froze in its movement. Only slowly Jeremy finally dropped it.  
"What happened?" Jeremy asked as calmly as he could. The agitation crossed his plans and Jean snorted derisively. He shook his head, but said nothing, instead turning his face towards the sky.  
"Today is the day of bank accounts, it seems," came biting words out of Jean's mouth that Jeremy had never heard before. "Or the day of useless money."  
Jeremy could not make sense of that answer. "Jean, what have they done?" he asked with his heart beating anxiously.

For agonizingly long moments Jeremy received no answer, then Jean snorted. His attention returned to Jeremy and he was pierced with the intensity of Jean's stare. Jean's eyes would be pretty if they didn't scare him so much, Jeremy noted.  
"They did nothing. They wanted to talk."  
Jeremy pursed his lips. "You don't just talk when you're blackmailing people at the same time."  
For a brief moment, Jean contemplated his words, then he lowered his eyes. "It's better not to bother," he murmured, apparently expecting that he would be punished for it. Nothing could be further from Jeremy's mind, though he could easily imagine shaking Jean right now until he realized that the Trojans didn't work that way. They cared about each other. They cared for each other. They were not part of criminal machinations. He didn't accuse Jean of that, but obviously the men who had just been here did not belong to their world.

"I can't do that. You belong to my team, Jean," Jeremy quietly verbalized his concern.  
"This is not a team matter."  
"It is if they come onto campus and grab you in front of our apartment building and blackmail me with your welfare, it is."

Jeremy's direct words dissolved Jean's emerging contradiction into nothing. It was definetly not in Jeremy's interest that Jean lowered his eyes and looked at the grass again, not at all.  
"It is not good to deal with them," Jean told him. "It's a family matter that's been settled."  
"So settled that they blackmail me with your health, Jean?" Jeremy repeated doubtfully. Jean flinched at his words and Jeremy almost felt guilty. He looked closely at the porcelain vase Jean was holding in his hands and frowned.

"They will not come back," Jean finally insisted on his initial words, of which Jeremy did not believe a single syllable. For that, the crease on his forehead was too steep, his mouth too tense. "Is this... an insurmountable problem," he finally asked and Jeremy frowned.  
"What do you mean?"  
"Will it lead to the cancellation of the contract with the Trojans?"

Jeremy was so shocked by Jean's words that he abruptly grabbed his arm and squeezed it. An in retrospect wrong and partly stupid gesture, which was answered with nothing but fear and kept Jeremy busy to catch the vase falling out of Jean's hands. He groaned as his back protested against the abrupt change in position, but his reflexes were still there and they were good.  
Jean's reflexes, too, it seemed, who had raised one hand defensively but hesitantly, as if he wanted to fend off a blow.

Just like the first day.

Jeremy swallowed. Of course. The things Riko did to Jean were quite visible, even without Kevin's warning. Jean was obviously frightend to be in the company of another boy. And Jeremy himself? Scared the boy with his words and gestures. Wonderful.  
With an apologetic smile, Jeremy freed himself from the trapped forearm and bent down again, this time after the fallen envelopes. Jean made no effort to take it all back, so Jeremy carried the burden for him. It was the least he could do.  
"No, it won't."  
Doubtfully, Jean frowned. "You judge prematurely."  
Jeremy raised his eyebrows questioningly. "What?"

Jean seemed to be only now becoming aware of what he had just said and he swallowed visibly. "Excuse me. I didn't mean to be rude."  
Jeremy waved it off with one hand. "You're not. Why am I jumping to conclusions?"  
"They are not to be trifled with."  
That made Jeremy snort. "No shit Sherlock. Men and women who walk around in black suits at sunny 35 degrees and drive black, mirrored cars are not to be joked with? We live happily here, but not behind the moon, Jean."

The ex-Raven frowned. "What is a Sherlock?" he actually asked and Jeremy blinked.  
"What?", echoed Jeremy with little understanding before he came to his senses. If Jean really didn't like watching films, how would he know Sherlock?  
"This is a private detective from London who solves rather bizarre cases. Actually a character in a novel, but one that has been made into movies and shows several times."

Jean seemed to think about this and apparently decided not to go into it. "What do you know about the Moriyamas," he asked instead and Jeremy shrugged.  
"Kengo Moriyama founded our wonderful sport together with Kayleigh Day."  
Jeremy fell silent and after a few seconds Jean apparently realized that there was nothing more to come. The line on his forehead became deeper than he had ever seen and Jeremy felt that the other boy had a lot on his mind... much less kind about Jeremy's knowledge of the sport they both played.  
"Kengo Moriyama belongs to a family clan that is better kept away from. They are ruthless when it comes to asserting their business interests."

Just in time before his brain could blurt things out that he would regret, Jeremy closed his mouth. If they're all like Riko, I don't want to meet anyone, was on the tip of his tongue. He could imagine that Jean would not appreciate this kind of answer at all. He also guessed why.  
Jeremy lifted the vase and nodded in their direction. "This doesn't look like keeping it away."  
"It's a symbolic gift."  
"For what?"  
Jean shrugged. "I don't know."  
"And the envelopes."  
"Apparently money. I don't know that either."  
"Do they lend you money? Is that why you depend on them?"

Jeremy didn't know what was so amusing about his words, but apparently Jean was so amused that he actually curled his lips into a smile. Short and cool, but it was there.  
"No, they do not. They never have and they never will."

Jeremy had questions burning on his tongue that he did not dare to ask, so he remained silent and measured the pale face. His attention was caught on the beanie Jean was wearing and he felt anger inside. At Riko. At Evermore and the men who had been here. For his country that made it possible for such assholes to beat and threaten someone and get away with it.

"Coach Rhemann has to know about this," he noted cautiously and the boy next to him flinched as if he had burned him. Again, as if it was repugnant to him, as if it was something terrible that their coach, whom they all trusted blindly, was told about it.  
"It's better to stay away from them," Jean repeated, as if that would explain everything, and Jeremy sighed. Those had been Kevin's words, too, and the repetition of that made it all the more insistent to Jeremy that something was happening here that none of them had known before.

Slowly Jeremy nodded and sighed deeply. Silence came between them and for the first time he couldn't really fill with life because he had too much on his mind, which he hadn't thought about at all and for which he had no solutions yet. This challenged and annoyed him at the same time.  
In the end, Jeremy shrugged his shoulders and turned his attention to Jean, who scrutinized him with worry in his eyes. Jeremy tried to smile and actually succeededin doing so.

"How about this: I bring these things to the room, we pay Coach Rhemann a visit and you tell him what you have to tell him about this. Then we'll drive into town and have a look around the Art District?"  
Jean questioned his words and it took some time before he found the courage to put his doubts into words. "Will he not want this envelope?" he asked hesitantly and Jeremy raised his eyebrows.  
"Your envelope, your money, your bank account, Jean Moreau," Jeremy replied with playful severity, recalling their previous discussion. Jean took note of this silently, but Jeremy could already see the uncertainty lurking behind it.

"I can help you with that if you want me to," he offered and actually got a nod.

~~**~~

Jean stood in front of her bathroom mirror and blinked in disbelief.

In the soft light of the setting sun, supported by the lamp that was enthroned above him, he had an unimpeded view of his face, or rather of the lasting blush on his forehead, his cheeks and above all on his nose. Redness that really hurt on closer touching, while his skin stretched over his bones. He gently touched the red areas with his index finger and watched in amazement as they turned white under pressure before returning to their redness.

The passing day and the food Knox had cooked for both of them tonight took their toll and he felt an urgent need to go down to the basement and sleep right now. But he still had to wait until Knox had fallen asleep before he could steal away and finally close his eyes.

Jean let his thoughts drift back. Coach Rhemann had not reacted as he had expected. Not at all. Thoughtfully, the man had listened to what Jean had told him almost too softly to be heard. He had nodded and then thanked Jean for being so honest with him and sharing this meeting with him. It was at the top of the list of things that had surprised Jean during the week he was here. The Master had never thanked him, on the contrary. Jean had to thank the Master for being disciplined by him again and again. For every single blow he had had to thank him.

How Jean had to react to the gratitude of his coach was not clear to him until now, and it had certainly not been when he had stared at Rhemann dumb as a fish and just as stupid. Before he could bow out of sheer helplessness, Rhemann had chased Knox and him out of his office. His captain had lost no time in responding to this and had made good on his threat to drag him to the neighborhood, which was brimming with art on every street corner and had overwhelmed Jean in all its visual overload.

What, if not this, perfectly symbolized his current life. The shadow of the Moriyamas was forever on him, they would always breathe down his neck and control his life. He would have to honor the contract Josten had made for himself, Kevin and him to save them all. His amended contract, which was based on the fact that his family had been disgraced by Riko's behavior.

Disgrace. Yes, Riko had him raped to see what kind of trauma it would cause in Jean. But that hadn't been the only thing he had done to him and for that the Moriyamas didn't care. It was only the intimate violence of unwanted sexual intercourse that counted, not everything else that had been done to him over the years. Starting with the deprivation of freedom when they took him to Evermore against his will. When they locked him up in the basement without sunlight. None of this the family regretted, only that Riko had let him be fucked five times.

And against all this memory of violence and humiliation stood the intact, beautiful world of the USC Trojans, who knew nothing of what Jean's life had been. Jean felt like one of the cacophonous works of art he had seen today. A dark something that caused discomfort, exposed and presented to a world full of sunshine and warmth, so that everyone could take a look at this darkness and be happy not to be part of it.

One month and three weeks to go. The envelopes and the vase did not change that, nor did the behavior of his coach or captain. On the contrary. Jean wouldn't be surprised if this didn't strengthen his resolve in the end.

But first of all he had quite different things that demanded his attention.

He had a sunburn. A sunburn. Jean couldn't remember the last time he had had one, and the feeling, unpleasant as it was, was wonderful compared to his other pains of the last few years, because it meant he had been out in the sun. For hours.

Against his will, he had let himself be captured by this part of the city and his art and had let Knox's words wash over him like the background noise of the streets. Away from the memories of his conversation with the lawyer. He had even let himself be talked into photographing the colorful painting of rainbow wings on a house wall for Renee and sending it to her.

Much to her delight.

Jean blinked when he noticed that the beginnings of a smile threatened to pull his lips up at the thought of her. He quickly turned away and left the bathroom almost in a hurry, finding himself eye to eye with Knox, who held up a tube of unidentifiable cream with one of his typical smiles.

"Here, this is an pain-relieving moisturizer that will make your sunburn more bearable," Knox explained the existence of that very tube, and again Jean couldn't help but wonder how much different things could be from Evermore. Never, at no time, had Riko given him painkillers. In all those years he had never once tried to relieve anything.

That it suited Knox was undisputed. That Knox was also willing to do good for him was something Jean understood only slowly and even more reluctantly.

How absurd it seemed to him that there was relief for a trivial sunburn.  
"Thank you," Jean muttered and glanced at the vase that stood on the bedside table by his bed. He didn't want it there and would banish it tomorrow - in an act of new rebellion - to the small living room. Preferably right next to Days Puzzle, because where did it belong better than with the number two, the golden boy who couldn't bear his broken hand and had fled.

Jean put some of the cream on his fingers and rubbed it on his warm skin before returning the tube to Knox, who proudly looked at him on his tanned face.

"I'll put it in the bathroom with your clothes. After three days the worst should be over. It works best if you apply it in the morning and evening."

Jean stared in silence at Knox as he put his words into action. He had to remind himself by force that this boy was his captain. And that Jean had been punished again and again for Knox's superiority.

This was harder than he thought.

~~~~~~~~~~~

To be continued.

Chapter Ten

Jeremy was jolted abruptely out of his dreams of men in black suits chasing him around the campus. He couldn't say exactly what it was that pulled him from his nightmares and it was his instinct that made him wake up from his confused dreams. He looked around wildly and threw himself to the side - out of the bed onto the hard floor. Jeremy groaned as pain exploded along his side.  
He grumbled unwillingly as his sleep-tired mind realised what he was actually doing here.

Somebody was knocking on then door, though knocking wasn't really the proper word for the sound of a fist thundering against the thin wood.   
"Knox, I know you're in there! Come on, open your damn door!" The very same words were punctuated by a Spanish-accented, gruff curse that could only have come from one person on this entire planet.

Alvarez. Sara Alvarez, backliner and biggest, early-bird bitch he'd ever met and befriended. Yes, she and Laila were due to arrive today and yes, Jeremy still remembered that. No, he didn't remember that their arrival time had been so fucking early!

A glance at Jean's bed told him that the other boy was already awake and had not been woken by this actions. Jeremy thanked God for that, not wanting to imagine what would have happened if the already withdrawn ex-Raven had been kicked out of his bed by Jeremy‘s noise.  
Nevertheless, Jeremy had to open the door as soon as possible and thus prevent it from being literally kicked in. Or broken in, which was more likely.

Grumbling, he bolted upright and stumbled towards the hallway, with a quick apologetic smile to Jean, who was sitting in the kitchen counter with a glass of water, his distress over the noise written all too clearly on his face. The boy had pulled the hood of his sweater so low on his face that even the tattoo on his cheek was not visible. Seeking help, the grey eyes rested on Jeremy, who, as he now realized, was standing in the middle of the room with his boxers low on his hips and his hair in an out-of-bed style from hell.

"Sorry!" he muttered, stumbling on.  
"Fuck you, Alvarez, I'm gonna kill you!" he yelled back as he yanked the door open. Alvarez and Laila were standing in front of it and they were grinning at him like it was noon and not early morning.  
The two of them pushed their way into the apartment and Jeremy remembered what else he had wanted to prepare Jean for. For what and for whom. The events of the last day had completely erased the thoughts about of that and now...well...  
He followed the girls into his apartment.

"Good morning, sunshine, breakfast is here!" Alvarez roared, pressing what felt like a thousand kisses to his cheeks before ruffling his already chaotic hair and pushing past him. Her dark brown hair was tied up in a braid that whipped behind her as Jeremy opened his mouth helplessly. To give her or Jean a heads-up, he didn't know, but it didn't matter in the next moment when Laila hugged him far less enthusiastically but no less lovingly, letting him know what she thought of her girlfriend's mugging with an equally morning-weary roll of her eyes. She, like him, was not a morning person.

Not at all.

But that wasn't important now, he decided, as he broke away from her with apologetic haste and hurried after Alvarez into the kitchen, where his vice captain was standing with a raised eyebrow.  
"You have a gentleman-calling and no sock at the door," it came accusingly from her and Jeremy felt an unstoppable blush creep up his neck and cheeks. Jean was a lot of things, but not a male visitor, although after a moment's thought he realised how it must seem to have a stranger suddenly sitting in his kitchen counter while he looked like he came straight out of bed.

Because he fucking came straight out of bed!

But not from that particular bed.

Laila stepped behind him into the kitchen. At least she had mercy to not stare as obviously gawking as her girlfriend. With a smile and a wave, she greeted his roommate. Jean raised an eyebrow and Jeremy had the impression that the other boy had moved a little towards the wall.  
"Aren't you going to introduce us?" Alvarez growled, handing him the bag of breakfast stuff they had brought. Jeremy accepted it with a sigh, no longer postponing the inevitable.  
"Jean, this is Alvarez and Laila. Al, Laila, this is Jean."  
"Uuuh… is it sexy Frenchmen-time, Captain? I think your taste in men has always been better than your other senses! Hey Mr Tall, Dark and Handsome." Alvarez grinned insinuatingly and held out her hand to Jean, who pointedly ignored her in favour of looking at Jeremy, who groaned inwardly. Could the ground please open up and swallow him whole? That would be really fantastic.

Preferably right now.

He put the bag on the sideboard and emptied it. He somewhat granted Alvarez the awkward moment of silence that made her uneasy for a split second as she continued to be ignored by Jean.  
"Jean, by the way, is not a fling, but my new roommate, our new team member and your new backlining partner, Alvarez. You already know each other, as you have run into each other a time or two at the games against the Ravens. Oh yeah, and I remember... he's better than you, you twit," he delivered the death blow, turning with a broad smile to all three whose undivided attention he had.

For the duration of ten seconds there was a stunned silence, then Alvarez' light brown eyes widened almost comically. Her gaze flew wildly back and forth between him and Jean.  
"What?! Never! Moreau? Like Jean Moreau? As in number three of the perfect court? You're not serious, Captain! Why am I only learning about this now? Why didn't you tell me before? You could have said something! Write! A! Message! Smoke signals, damn it, anything! A Raven! With us! And the best backliner of our league, of all people! No shit! Oh dios mio, that I may live to see this!" Accusations upon accusations poured over him and Jeremy sighed. He swiped at the accusingly raised index finger and growled.

"Because it was a last-minute transfer that we are not going to officially announce until the start of the new season. Now turn your volume down, I don't fancy having to scrape my eardrums from the counter in the early morning. Thank you very much" When she took a breath to contradict him, it was his turn to raise his finger.

She lashed out at it and Jeremy scowled. But Alvarez was already not interested as she turned abruptly to Jean and stared at him with her hands on her hips. As silent as the ex-Raven had been so far, his facial expressions now betrayed him. He was tense and had clenched his hands into fists on his thighs, seemingly waiting for something that would inevitably come. Jeremy also already suspected what it might be and he choose to intervene.

Alvarez noticed it, too. Snorting, she straightened up. "This is going to take a long time and a lot of ice cream for me to forgive you, Cap, just so you know." Grumbling, she settled down next to Jean on one of the chairs at the table and propped her chin on top of the heel of her hand. Intently she stared at the backliner who had always been a role model for her. To call her a fangirl would be to declare war on her, so Jeremy only allowed himself to do so behind closed doors and only in his mind.

Here and now, however, it was all too apparent and he snorted.

"Jean, would you like coffee?" asked Jeremy trying to get the tense boy's attention. For a moment Jean left Alvarez out of his sight and nodded silently. Jeremy smiled and turned questioningly to Laila. She too nodded, too, and settled down opposite her girlfriend at the other side of the table.  
"Laila, hi," she was significantly quieter and more unobtrusive than her counterpart. That was why she, unlike Alvarez, received a nod from Jean. Jeremy immediately poured a spoonful of coffee next to the filter in delight and rolled his eyes enthusiastically at himself.

"So, you French prodigy of a backliner. Tell me, what brings you here all of a sudden and away from your 'number one we always win' team?"  
Jeremy's hearing senses, already imprinted for days on Jean's sounds, picked up very clearly the small sound of surprised wonder that left the boy's lips.  
"I changed teams," Jean said harshly, clearing his throat. Pouring the water much too loudly into the jug, Jeremy waited to see if Jean would elaborate on his answer, but nothing came. Alvarez grinned slyly.  
"Have you finally realised that we are the better team to play with?" She winked, and Jean snorted so loudly that Jeremy turned around in surprise.

"Hardly. You lost to the Foxes," Jean replied with so much doubt in his voice and more emotion than Jeremy had seen or heard in him over the last week. Jean seemed in his element and like the few times before, it seemed that the real boy was breaking through his icy façade. The boy, who he usually knew how to hide so well.  
"There were nine of them, including us. It was a fair match."  
Jean rolled his eyes. "That was a stupid decision."  
Alvarez snorted. "It's called sportsmanship."  
Jean raised an eyebrow, making it clear exactly what he thought. "Exy is a competition. The team as such must be one, but should not fraternize with the opponents."  
"Besides, our captain here is a big fanboy of Kevin Day. He couldn't just let the opportunity pass and..."

That was as far as she got when Jeremy covered her mouth and smiled sweetly with red cheeks. "How about you shut your damn mouth?" he asked, winking at Laila, who could only shake her head at Al's behaviour.  
"Fanboy?" echoed Jean, of all people, and Jeremy groaned in anguish.  
"Oh no, now you've triggered her," he complained whining as he withdrew his hand hissing as Alvarez bit into the flesh.  
"So. Our smug captain here..." began Alvarez dramatically, trying to slap Jeremy onto the forehead. He caught her hand and bit her index finger in revenge. "...our little man-eater here turned into a red-faced pile of fanboy slime when your former teammate approached him after one of our games. And do you know what he did?"

Jean shook his head and Jeremy got the impression that Jean didn't want to know either. Alvarez blithely overlooked it.  
"Day complimented his way of playing and our precious captain didn't get his act together for weeks. Disgusting, this fanboyism, I tell you. And since then the two have been... platonically and totally in love with each other."  
Alvarez shook herself in disgust and Jeremy snorted. "That's not true at all."  
"That's why you weren't worried like shit when he had his skiing accident."  
"Bullshit."  
"That's why you weren't happy as a fuck when Kev was traded to the Foxes and tried to get his mobile number."  
"Not true at all, that was a coincidence."  
"That's why..."  
"It wasn't a skiing accident," Jean's low and raspy voice cut through their dispute and silenced them all.  
"It wasn't?" Laila finally echoed and after a moment of thoughtful silence Jean shook his head.  
"Riko did it. He smashed his hand in a fit of rage."

Jeremy blinked, unable to comprehend the honest and terrible words that had just left the backliner's lips. Alvarez and Laila stared at him and gone was the playful joking.  
"He did what?" Laila inquired quietly, and Jean shrugged.  
"Why didn't Kevin ever say that?" asked Jeremy.  
"Because he's afraid of Riko and Evermore."  
"But now Riko's dead."  
"It doesn't matter now. He's with the Foxes and he won the title last year. He changed his playing hand and he's going to be part of the national team because that's the only thing he ever wants."

Jeremy had only seen Jean once as scornful as he was now: when he had laughed at him shortly before Jeremy had fled their shared apartment. Involuntarily Jeremy wondered whether the disdain referred to what Riko had done or to Kevin himself. He wasn't sure about that.  
"You are still friends, aren't you?" he asked cautiously and Jean raised his eyebrows silently. He said nothing in response, but Jeremy felt the no almost physically.

"Coffee it is, then," Laila steered the subject back into a more safer ground and Jeremy straightened up.  
"Coffee, yep. And what did you bring for breakfast?"  
Alvarez gestured carelessly behind her. "Just sweet stuff, as we know what you like, dear captain! We didn't have Mr. Still Tall, Dark and Handsome here on our radar, though. So, backliner number two at the Trojans... what are you having for breakfast?"

That Jean had in no way been prepared for his nicknames was obvious, because it was clearly written on his face for exactly three seconds, and it only gradually disappeared completely behind the usual expressionlessness. "Scrambled eggs and toast," he finally pressed out and Jeremy was already getting one of the pans from the cupboard.  
"In the making," He grinned to himself and set the breakfast table while Alvarez engaged Jean in a discussion about tactics, which the ex-Raven actually accepted animatedly. Even if that meant meticulously picking apart the words of his fellow backliner and ruthlessly arguing against her.

The fact that his voice was gaining more and more a soft, French dialect as he talked became apparent to Jeremy. This made his direct, sometimes even cruel assessments of achievements and failures not quite as bad, Jeremy thought. Alvarez and Laila probably did, too, who joined in the lively discussion, while Jeremy simply kept quiet for a while and enjoyed how Jean opened up to the two girls and their topic.

~~**~~

Fiona Chandler

Jean's eyes wandered over the name of the Trojans' team doctor again and again as he waited with Knox for her to finish her phone call and examine him for physical fitness.  
He fervently hoped Knox wouldn't come in, too, just as he hoped he could convince the doctor to let him play despite the injuries and scars. With his luck and the Trojans' attitude to any form of violence, his chances of being unlucky weren't even that slim.

Nervously, Jean kneaded his fingers. He would have to undress in front of her and she would surely ask questions about his scars. The fact that the Foxes' nurse had seen him almost naked had been bad enough. At the time, though, he hadn't been conscious enough to be really nervous or anxious about it. This time was different.

He‘d think his memories could distinguish between Riko, the Ravens who had forced themselves on him and other people apart from Evermore, but the truth couldn’t be farther away from it. He was afraid that once again he would have no choice and would have to endure it. Again, because his captain demanded it of him.

That was precisely why the words of the pushy backliner at breakfast had caught him by surprise. His initial suspicion that the gay captain of the Trojans had only brought him to his apartment to fuck him without delay or complications had flared up again all at once, leaving him with a jittery bundle of nerves. It had only gotten a little bit better when the half-naked boy had shown how embarrassed he had been by his own appearance and when they had broached an innocent topic.

Jean had relaxed so much that he had just blurted out the bitter truth about Day's broken bones. The need to counter this unnecessary PR joke of the skiing accident with the truth had been so strong that Jean had come up with it faster than he had been able to think about it. It was half of the truth, because Riko had not only broken Day's bones that day. He had also gone wild on him and Jean still bore the scars of that on his back.

Visible to the doctor and also to Knox, should he be also there.

The door opened and Jean flinched as a woman stepped out who was exactly as Knox had described her. Smaller than him, tomboyish, with long black braids that reached her backside. Her smile was warm and friendly, like the weather, like everything and everyone here.

"Mr Moreau?" The formality in her voice surprised him and he swallowed hard. Silently, he nodded and rose. He was a head and a half taller than her, but that didn't have to mean anything. Cruelty knew no such thing as physical boundaries.  
"Would you please come in? The examination won't take long and is just a routine procedure that all USC players have to go through."

He followed her into her tidy, bright office, which would have been cosy under any other circumstances. It had a window, like every room here in California, with a lavish amount of light and warm air entering the room. There were medical books on the shelves and on her meticulously ordered desk she had a file with his name on it. The rest of the files were apparently carefully tucked away in her locked metal cabinet.

With a smile, she settled down in her brown leather chair and motioned him to take a seat in front of the desk. Cautiously, Jean lowered himself onto the surprisingly comfortable chair.  
"First of all, a warm welcome to USC from me too, Mr Moreau. I hope you've had a chance to settle in and find your way around our beautiful but winding campus over the past week?

He hadn't, although Knox had shown him around. They were due to start next week and Jean had still no idea how to get to his classrooms. Let alone he had any idea how to tell Knox that he was unable to take even one step outside the door without another person. His visits in the basement were born out of necessity because he needed to sleep. Otherwise...

Jean remembered that he was expected to answer and nodded. "Thank you." Lying was easier for him every time and it saved him from worrying looks and unnecessary enquiries. Riko would not have let him get away with it so easily, let alone the Master himself.

"Very well. But I'm also sure that Mr Knox will be happy to lend you a hand to make sure you reach your classes in time in the first few weeks."  
Jean nodded again, even though he dreaded the mere thought of Knox touching him. The other boy had done that several times and every single time he had scared the hell out of Jean with it. Touching was always meant to cause him pain.  
Except for Renee's touches. And Abby's. They were an exception and they too hurt him in all their special, loving ways.

"Did you bring any documents?"

Jean shook his head. He had asked the Foxes' nurse not to give him a file and to destroy everything she had noted down about him. Abby had understood and had complied with his request. Evermore would not be able to provide USC with any files because the resident doctor had never laid eyes on him. He had looked away, like everyone else.

But this woman here would not do that and Jean was already dreading the moment she saw his scars.

"Okay, no problem at all. Then we will have to work through the whole medical history questionnaire. I'd like you to give me as many detailed answers as possible to each of the questions."  
Jean nodded and let the doctor's questions wash over him. Some of them he could answer, others he could not. Others he did not want to answer and faltered accordingly. Had he had unprotected sexual intercourse? No. They had used condoms every time they raped him. Were there any hereditary diseases in his family? He didn't know and had no family left to ask. Had he had broken bones in the last few years? Yes. How many? Jean had to recount it and the answer made the doctor pause in her note taking. Where? When he began to list them all, she lowered her pen and looked thoughtfully into his eyes.

After a short pause she resumed with her writing and eventually came to the end of the questionnaire. With a resolute movement, she pushed the stack together and pointed to the couch that stood in the open neighbouring room.

"If you would please strip down to your underwear, I'll join you in a moment."

There it was, the sentence that scared Jean so much. Undressing was a problem. To undress in front of strangers, an impossibility. Everything in him refused, every fibre of his body screamed at him that he couldn't because he knew what came after. What had always come when he had had to undress or had been undressed.  
His hands were shaking so badly he couldn't hide them in time from her attentive gaze as he made this movement.

"Mr Moreau." Her voice was too conciliatory not to scratch the insides of his eardrums. She sounded like the nurse when she had tried to coax him into eating a spoonful of soup. She sounded like Renee when she had tried to persuade him to stay. She sounded too indulgent not to break down his walls of rejection and distance.

He didn't need this understanding, on the contrary. Jean cursed it with everything he had ...which was not very much at the moment, Jean had to admit to himself. The thought of Renee and Abby made him realise again that he had to comply in order not to endanger them. If he didn't strip, the doctor wouldn't release him for practice and games. If he didn't play until he died and just sat on the bench, the Moriyamas would probably hurt them to make him do it.

"I'll be fine," he muttered, rising abruptly. He had to do it for Renee. For the nurse. Jean swallowed. Before he could change his mind, he stepped hastily into the examination room and pulled his shirt over his head. His trousers followed, as did his sneakers and socks. Shivering, he wrapped his arms around himself and lowered his gaze to the floor as he heard the doctor rise as well.

Renee...she deserved it after all she had done for him. She deserved him to be strong for her because Ravens only ever came in pairs. He had to take care of her the way he had taken care of Josten when he had spent the winter holidays in the nest. Despite all his foolishness, despite all his unnecessary resistance.

Doctor Chandler paused in the doorway for a moment before she came to him and stepped into his limited field of vision. Just out of his reach, just far enough for her to observe him, him and his scars.  
"Mr Moreau, we don't have to do this. We can always postpone the examination, if you wish."

If he wished? Why did it suddenly matter so much what he wished? Especially since he didn't even know what he wished. He simply didn't know. For years he had not been allowed to have his own wishes and now he was constantly being asked for his opinion. An opinion he didn't have. And how could he after all that was beaten into him?  
Jean shook his head silently and looked up, more out of an act of desperation than anything else.

He thought he knew what he would see in her eyes. Pity, regret, shock. But he was wrong...again. Her black eyes rested seriously on him, but contained none of the expected emotions. He saw understanding and acceptance, professional distance from him and the battlefield that was his body. He preferred that a thousand times more than anything else and so, irrationally, he didn't feel quite so naked.

With professional detachment, she looked at his scars. The fingers with which she touched and examined his scars and their texture did not feel like his personal hell. He was uncomfortable, yes, but he was able to get through it. At least as long as he could see her and predict her movements.  
With all due care, she removed the plasters from his skin and took a critical look at the healing wounds, especially the one on his hip where Riko had traced his bone with a knife. Again and again and again, only to lever under the bone with that very knife to see how far it could be lifted.

It was one of the last wounds Riko had inflicted on him and probably the one that had been the most dangerous. At least that's what the nurse had told him, and as gently as she could, she had tended to the stitched wound that had made it impossible for him to stand and walk alone for the first week and a half. He had strained it again while running and it was now correspondingly angry and irritated, causing the doctor to frown.

"May I assume that these scars and wounds are from your time in Evermore?" she asked the first specific question and Jean nodded. What could he possibly deny that she saw on his body?  
Silently she examined the remaining scars and gently felt the destroyed and partially knotted tissue. Jean meanwhile stared at the sun shining through the frosted glass into the room. What would inevitably follow drew closer and closer and when it was finally there, it took his breath away.

Doctor Chandler straightened up and by her knowing expression he could already see that she would now turn her attention to his back. There, where he would not see her. Inevitably Jean stiffened and took the opportunity to wrap his arms around the middle of his body.

"I would like to take a look at your back now. I have a mirror, back there in the corner, if you'd like. You could watch me while I do it."  
Jean wondered where she got the sensitivity to read his mind without him ever uttering a syllable of fear. Or was he so obvious that his every thought was written on his face?

He followed her pointing finger and took a look in the mirror, which reflected his unadorned reflection back at him.  
From this angle, the writing on the inside of his left thigh, which had been carved there again and again, was not visible. He had hopes that the doctor also overlooked it. Quite unlike all the other scars, which were more obvious and which he knew by heart. Each one of them he could name, could remember the pain and suffering that had accompanied them. The bruises, which had still not completely disappeared, surprised him just as little. All the more surprising for him was that this time should be over now and that the only pain he felt within a week was the one he had inflicted on himself while running with his still healing wounds.

And of course that the sunburn that had caused Knox to let him leave the flat today only after applying sunscreen.

Jean stared into his own eyes. Like an echo, his scars were waiting to be broken open again, his body was waiting for new pain because his nerves had been taught that way over the years. But they received nothing and so he drifted through the day without a goal. Without fixed points to tell him that everything was still the same and that his acquired thought patterns were still valid.  
Jean blinked and winced as she loosened the large plaster on his back and he instinctively took a step forward to escape her hands.

Firmly, but not too quickly, the doctor removed her hands from him and showed him that she would not do anything until he gave her the OK. Jean would have liked to shout at her that it didn't matter. Not now and not in the future.  
"The wound has become slightly infected, Mr Moreau. I'm afraid I'll have to clean it."  
What was there to be afraid of? 

He nodded and after a moment, the doctor resumed in examining the wound. What she was doing burned, but it was nothing like the pain he had felt when receiving the wound. Or at the bear hug from the goalie.  
"Do you have any possibilities of asking for help with cleaning this wound?" she asked into his memories of the giant boy and Jean shook his head. He couldn't ask Knox. He himself apparently couldn't manage to keep his unruly body in check. Jean seriously wondered how he had survived the last few years. How had he managed to play the past years with broken bones and bleeding wounds if he was already defeated by such a trivial task?

"Then I would like to ask you to come and see me every day from tomorrow on. I will disinfect the wound and renew the bandage. After a week we will see if I can clear you for practice."  
Alarmed, Jean looked up and wheeled around. "What? But I can play!" It almost escaped him fearfully before he could control himself. He frowned. "I've exercised with this before, played with worse, and this is just a stab wound."

Jean didn't understand the sadness he saw in the doctor's eyes as she returned his gaze, her hands still outstretched between them.  
"I believe you have played with far worse, Mr Moreau. But I cannot and will not allow this sport to hurt you any more than it already has. This isn't Evermore. USC cares about the health of its players. You will avoid any exertion for a week and take it easy. We will see each other every day and I will look at your progress. At the end of the week, we'll see if you are able to go further."

Jean opened his mouth, but realised from the sternness in her face that any contradiction would be met with iron will. So he closed his lips and stared at the floor, away from the knowing eyes, away from her soft, deep voice that had spoken the name "Evermore" with so much hatred that he shuddered.

"I will also give you painkillers. Can you sleep through the nights?" Again it was Jean's turn to answer this question with a shake of his head and he hoped she did not ask where he slept. But she only nodded simply.  
"Then I will give you a light sleeping medicine to help you find rest for the coming week."

Pain medication...sleeping pills...maybe Jean was actually dreaming right now and would wake up right back in Evermore. It couldn't all be true.

He wanted to refuse, but he couldn't find the right words, so he remained silent and waited for the end of her examinations. Why was his blood pressure important to her? Or his pulse? Or the sound of his lungs? He understood that she wanted to do a blood test...but the rest? He had been an athlete since childhood. What could be wrong with him? His knees were perfectly fine, as were his ribs.

She didn't seem to think so, as she frowned when she felt his chest and listened to his lungs again. Jean watched her worriedly. What if she found something again that made him sit out even longer? A week was already critical.

The words of the senior lawyer came to his mind. A valuable investment. That had been a promise and a threat at the same time, a ranking of his abilities and only those. Until he found the courage at the end of these two months, he could not risk others suffering for his transgressions. He had to be what the Trojan girls believed him to be. The best backliner in the league.

Jean thought of the dark-haired one. The backliner with whom he would be defending the Trojans' goal. She had engaged him in a discussion about game moves, to which he had not been averse, if he honestly admitted it to himself. Such a thing was new to him and he liked it more than he wanted to admit. She had asked him for his opinion and assessment and after his initial distrust of her, he had uttered the first, cautious words. Instead of violence, he had gotten an animated discussion. Knox had stayed out of it and Jean was glad of that. He would not talk back to his captain... no more than he had done now and did every night, sneaking away.

"You can get dressed again, Mr Moreau," the doctor pulled him out of his thoughts and Jean reached for his clothes. He wasted no time in covering his body and scars before following her into the office room and settling back into the chair there at her wish. Why should he, after all, everything had been said.  
But she still had to give him the medication. Jean stared silently at the packages, at the names he had never heard before. Again, a feeling of surreality engulfed him.

He was not prepared for the note she handed him. What was he supposed to do with it? Brian, who was that? And what was the number under the name? He looked up questioningly.

"Brian is one of our therapists here at USC. If you feel the need to talk to someone about your past in Evermore, he might be a right person." Rather taken aback, Jean stared at her. Somebody to...talk to? About his time at Evermore? Cold horror gripped Jean as he imagined talking to a stranger about what had happened. About everything Riko and the others had done to him. He swallowed with difficulty.  
"The decision is entirely yours, Mr Moreau," she explained further. "I just want you to know who you can turn to if you feel the need. Or if it becomes too much."

Jean didn't know what to say to that. He had survived. Wasn't that enough? As it seemed, everyone and everything at USC was pushing for him to be a person who got painkillers and sleeping pills, who got the number of a therapist he could call. Was that what it was like to be like him? Broken and damaged?  
He decided to ask Renee about it and quietly he took the number. If there was one thing Jean had learned over the last few years, it was, that living and surviving would be easier without resistance. So he nodded and took the smile that was given him in response as confirmation of his learned behaviour.

"That would be all for today. I don't want to keep you out of the sun any longer either, which I see you've been enjoying already." She grinned and winked at him. Rather to his sunburn and involuntarily Jean touched his face, which was indeed better thanks to Knox's cream.  
"Don't forget the sun cream, Mr Moreau!" she now joined in the canon and Jean raised his eyebrows doubtfully.  
"Am I allowed to go?"  
"Of course. I look forward to seeing you...tomorrow, same time, same place."

He didn't, not at all.

Without looking at her, he took the medication and realised he didn't have a bag to hide it in. Which wasn't really necessary, because she would be talking to his captain about his condition anyway. Jean took a bet on that.  
He rose and turned away from her smile, walking out into the corridor to Knox, who was still waiting for him.

The mobile phone his captain had in his hand was pinging incessantly, but it was apparently not as important as he was. Knox looked at him expectantly and Jean didn't quite know what he wanted from him. So he stared back, his gaze shifting between his chin and the other boy's eyes.  
"And…cleared for everything?" his captain asked, when apparently the silence was getting too much for him and Jean shook his head. He glanced at the doctor's name tag.  
"Doctor Chandler said she is suspending me from practice for a week."  
The blue eyes widened in surprise and Jean saw concern on the tanned face that didn't seem to be having nearly as much trouble with the sun as his own face was. Certainly, Knox was concerned that Jean would not be able to fulfill his duties properly.

"Are you all right?" asked Knox betraying unknowingly Jeans expectations and he inwardly rolled his eyes at this. This was USC, he reminded himself. California. This was where the person he wasn't supposed to be counted.  
"Yeah."  
"But why did she bench you?"  
Jean was torn between telling an obvious lie and not answering. The latter was ruled out because he had received a direct question. From his captain. He knew better than to remain silent in response.  
"An injury on my back has become infected and she would like to see progress in healing first," Jean replied, appropriately neutral, and again it was surprise that flowed towards him.

And concern.

Jean growled and with great restraint it was only within himself.

"Oh God, that's why you flinched when Ajeet hugged you. I'm terribly sorry about that! If I had known, I would have made sure he didn't do that. I'm terribly sorry! Is there anything I can do for you?" Knox broke into his wordy babble almost instantly and Jean was briefly tempted to answer with a yes to the question. Knox could stop being him. He could just stop talking.  
"Why are you sorry?" he asked in confusion instead before he could stop himself. He couldn't make sense of his captain‘s logic of it all. Why should Knox, who really had nothing to do with causing the wound, apologise for it?  
"Because it would have saved you suffering!"

As matter-of-factly as Knox reasoned, Jean was unwilling to accept it, for it would bring his captain even closer to Renee than he would have liked. She was like that too. So obscurely illogical. So compassionate. Could a captain ever be compassionate?

Jean suspected, no, feared, that the Californian answer to that was yes. He sighed. This time actually out loud.

"You are not being responsible for this." Jean said it impatiently, where he had intended to be respectful and polite. But Knox was not bothered by his tone, on the contrary. He smiled as if Jean had said something particularly good and for a moment he wondered if he might have been speaking French in his frustration.  
"But I feel responsible for it, Jean, as I feel responsible for you."

Once upon a time Jean would have pulled at his hair at this point. Since he knew what it was like to have whole tufts torn out, he refrained from the comparison and forcibly schooled his face to expressionlessness. He kept silent and averted his eyes, hoping that this particularly stupid line of conversation would end there.

It did.

"Did Doc Fiona take your blood, too?" The next strange question and Jean nodded. As enthusiastically as Knox was now grinning, his answer couldn't be the right one. It really couldn't.  
"Then you are in dire need need of ice!"  
No. Certainly not. Jean didn't need ice to cool the puncture site. That was ridiculous. Really. But before he could open his mouth and actually talk back to his captain, the latter beat him to it with a resolute wave of his hand.

"No objections, Moreau," the admonishing index finger from this morning came into view and Jean knew better than to say anything now. He preferred to take his time looking at it and drawing comparisons between Knox's index finger and his own, which was less straight but had fewer calluses. The farm, he remembered.  
"Come on, let's go."

Jean sighed inwardly. What else could he do but follow his captain's orders?

The fact that they were not going back to the flat became clear to Jean only belatedly because of his disorientation on this campus. Too late, he thought, when they suddenly found themselves in front of a shop that made him realise the double meaning of the word ice.   
For cooling, yes, but Jean didn't think he should be smearing ice cream on his arm. He looked down in disbelief at his captain who, with a satisfied gleam and that very index finger, pointed to the counter where there were ice cream flavors Jean couldn't even pronounce. It had been more than a decade since he had been in an ice cream parlour.

While Jean was realising what that meant, Knox entered the shop and waved cheerfully at the man behind the counter.  
"Jer, hey! You alright?" Of course, his captain was known here too. Why was he even surprised, Jean asked himself with a touch of self-deprecating exasperation.  
"Everything's great! Chris, we've got a bitten one here!" Jean wasn't able to comprehend the meaning of shock on Knox's face and even less the horror on the other boy's face. What was happening here?  
"Doc Chandler hasn’t got any mercy in her!" the man huffed, and Jean couldn't agree. The needle under his skin had been uncomfortable, but nothing bad compared to everything else.

"Jean," Knox turned his full attention to him and Jean swallowed nervously.  
"It's a good old Trojan tradition that any newcomer who's been sucked empty by vampire Doc Chandler gets an ice cream as a first thing afterwards. Size doesn't matter, number of flavours doesn't matter. So, what do you want?"  
Jean had expected a lot, but not this. It reminded him of the old days, when he had had to go to a doctor in Marseilles for vaccinations. The doctor had always given him a colourful lollipop as a reward for his bravery. Jean remembered that he had loved the sticky sweetness.

That time was gone, irretrievably.

"I...don't know the ice cream flavours," Jean replied appropriately haltingly, realising his mistake as soon as the words left his mouth. He should have said that he didn't eat ice cream. Or that he didn't feel like eating ice cream. Perhaps even that would be possible with Knox. But putting his unknowingness out there as a first answer was stupid because it opened up possibilities.  
"Oh. Hmm." Knox frowned, then turned to the vendor. "A bit of everything then please!"

"What?!" Jean asked at the same time as the man who eyed them both wide-eyed. Knox himself gave an image of perfect innocence as he eyed them both with an amused smirk.  
"What?" he countered, signalling...Chris, that was his name, to continue. Feverishly, Jean considered how else he could prevent the coming catastrophe that was unfolding here in front of him as the man picked up a plate and began spreading small scoops of all sorts on it.  
"I..." he began, but got no further. In Evermore, sweets had been strictly forbidden to him. That, what had been beaten into him for years, now whispered that he would be punished for every spoonful he took. They would beat him until he was nothing but a bleeding pulp.

With frightening clarity, Jean realised that that time was gone. No one from Evermore would come and punish him for this. The main branch of the family had approved his transfer to the Trojans. Here he had Knox to tell him what to do.

Knox who was sorry he had been hurt by his late ex-captain. Knox who would make him breakfast. Knox who touched his hands without hurting them. Who gave him so much intellectual input that even now Jean remembered the colourful artworks of the Art District.

"Wonderful, thank you!" That very same person brought him out of his thoughts and Jean looked down at a plate full of colourful little ice cream scoops. He blinked. There was no way he was going to manage all that on his own.  
"I am not able to eat that much," he muttered almost inaudibly, and Knox lifted the two spoons he held in his hands with a wink.  
"Anything you can't manage, I'll eat. Don't worry!"

It was easy for Knox to talk...   
Silently, Jean followed him outside and settled carefully beside his captain at one of the shadowy tables under the huge trees.

Chapter 11

The sweet smell of the ice-cream in front of him drifted into Jean's nose and made him realise again that no one from Evermore would come and punish him. He was allowed to eat ice-cream. He was supposed to, after all, because his captain had spoken clearly. Jean stared at the multicoloured smorgasbord of incredible eighteen scoops and wondered if Knox had lost his mind.  
Even if his captain would be eating them too, it would be far too much. No one could eat that in a lifetime.

Doubtful, his gaze rested on the boy who was now holding out a spoon to him. The metal object hung in the air between them and Jean had the feeling that if he reached for it, he would not only be accepting this nonsensical Trojan's tradition, but that he would also be entering into a non-verbal contract with his captain, of which he did not even know the paragraphs at this point.

It wouldn't kill him to try and just as he had rebelliously banished the black and gold bowl next to the Day puzzle, so now he rebelliously decided to overturn the Evermore rules as far as his diet plan was concerned. Riko was dead, the Master no longer ruled over him.  
He was here and had received an offer he had to accept before it melted.

Silently, Jean placed the medicine and the note tucked between them on his lap and reached for the spoon. Still, he waited for his captain's permission to begin, which was given to him rather impatiently after a second of comprehension.  
"Go on, it'll melt otherwise!" Full of joyful anticipation, Knox stared at him and Jean lowered his gaze, concentrating his attention on the plate.

Cautiously he tasted the first flavour and chocolate exploded in his mouth. Chocolate like Jean had last enjoyed a decade ago.  
For a moment the sheer taste of it was unbelievable and it tasted completely wrong. His memories, flawed and incomplete as they had become over the years, told him it couldn't be. Too sweet, too heavy, too wrong. Then...slowly, his taste buds got used to it and he took a second spoonful, half of the portion this time. Chocolate, he noted for himself affirmatively, and decided that this was now the taste for it.

"Well?" asked Knox nervously beside him, and Jean wondered why his opinion was important. What was he supposed to say in response? It was...sweet and sticky and overwhelming. His taste buds were running wild. He already felt that the sugar was having a negative effect on him.  
Jean shrugged and turned his attention to the next scoop.

Banana. At least Jean thought so, while his taste buds weren't so sure about that. He had eaten fruits in Evermore, but not like this. So much sugar, so much sweetness... and he....

Between all of his feelings of rebellion and trying something new, something else stole itself in between the conflicting emotions. He hadn't felt it for years and had thought it long time dead. But now it pulled and tugged at him the more Jean dwelled on it. 

Homesickness. 

Chocolate and banana made him homesick, which he couldn‘t believe at first.

The last time he had felt homesick, he had come to Evermore and learned that he would never return to his family because they had left him in that hell hole. From one moment to the next he had been torn from his beloved and familiar surroundings, cast out from his family into a hostile environment that had made him also hostile. Gradually, every positive feeling had ceased to exist and had been replaced by anger, hatred, fear and a sense of betrayal.

Renee had given him back tiny pieces of his gentleness. She had given him hope and through her he had rediscovered what friendship and devotion could mean. What Knox was unwittingly doing here was similar, yet so entirely different on a closer look. Homesickness carried a glimpse of home that he certainly didn't find here in South California. But it allowed him to relive that very feeling, something Jean had never thought possible to feel again.

And it was wonderful.

So, spoon by spoon, he tasted his way through the other varieties full of fruit and cake and vanilla and more chocolate, while his thoughts were in his homeland, in the warm summers there that carried the smell of sea and cypresses through the narrow and steep alleys of his hometown called Marseilles.

It was only when he had tasted the last flavour that Jean looked up and found the strength to look Knox in the eyes. Despite the gentle smile, the latter had already impatiently raised his own spoon. The greed showing in the very blue eyes spoke for itself and Jean wondered why Knox hadn't just taken the plate away from him if he wanted some ice-cream for himself. Surely that was his right. Why hadn't he said anything or just pulled it away?

"Well?" his captain asked expectantly and Jean wondered if it would be better to lie to Knox. Would his captain forbid him another scoop when he realised he liked it? Jean was unsure, therefore he shied away from an aswer. A lie would be dangerous, too dangerous for Jean not to eventually choose the truth.  
"It was good."  
Knox grinned. "You want some more?"  
Jean's heart stopped for a moment as he realised the double meaning of the question. Where there could be less, there could be also more. For heaven's sake…

"No," Jean replied firmly, pausing before averting his gaze as Knox's grin became too bright and radiant for him. "Thank you," he said finally, placing the spoon on the table. As he did so, it was not difficult for him to interpret the eyes darting back and forth between him and the plate for what they were: waiting greedily for him to release what he would not eat.

Jean sighed inwardly and pushed the plate in Knox's direction.

With wordless amazement, he watched the Trojan captain eat the rest of the ice cream at a speed that made Jean wonder if the boy tasted anything at all. Apparently he did, looking at the boy's enraptured expression. Apparently the ravenous hyena at the other end of the table did taste it and Jean had found it twitching in his fingers more than once to pull the plate away from Knox...just to see how he would react.

In another life, he would have playfully tried.

That he even wasted a thought on doing that made Jean frown. His forced respect screamed at him that this was no way to think about his captain. Silently, Jean snorted. Hadn't his ex-captain forbidden him to speak French too? He had. And hadn't he spoken that very language with Day and also Josten? Yes, he had.

No, his resistance was not completely dead. But that didn't mean he was going to make the last few weeks harder than they needed to be.

As if he had heard it, his mobile phone pinged in his pocket. The time and tone of the message were right and Jean paused for a moment. He knew what the message was. He knew who it was from.

"Aren't you curious who’s texted you?" Knox asked and Jean raised an eyebrow.  
"No. Are you?" it escaped him before he could stop himself and he watched with no small satisfaction as the blond boy's ears turned almost as red as the strawberry ice cream that was still in the corners of his captain's mouth.

~~**~~

"Do you use Instagram or Twitter?"

Jean looked up from the letters that had formed into words in his mind until just now and put his finger in the book as a bookmark. He frowned as he tried to make sense of Knox's words. When the latter did not explain what he meant but continued to stare at him expectantly, Jean sighed silently. Something he realised he had been doing a lot lately in the presence of his captain. Why didn't Knox just keep talking, as he usually did?

"I don’t know these programs. What are they?" he finally asked out of necessity, and Knox opened his mouth like shocked people did, whose worldview was about to shatter in the next moment. From one moment to the next, he had the full attention of his captain, who now turned to him. Jean swallowed. That had never ended well for him. Never.   
"Excuse me?!"  
Jean had the unmistakable feeling that these items or programs belonged to something that was essential for a human being. Of course, Evermore didn’t get him those accounts, whatever they were. Distractions had been forbidden to him, as had been contacts with the outside world.  
"You don't know the horrible shallows of Twitter and Instagram? Facebook at least? Skype? Tumblr? Snapchat? Buzzfeed? Reddit? 4chan?"

Jean blinked. Once too often, as it turned out, because when he opened his eyes again, Knox had already jumped up, giving Jean the scare of his life as he came to him and dropped down beside him on the bed he was currently sitting on.

Whether it was the heavy body lowering the mattress beside him or the direct presence of another human being, his captain... instinct and bad memories made Jean recoil violently and hastily towards the headboard without hesitation, his knees pressed against his body, his hands clawed into the sheet close to his body. Like when he had first entered Knox‘s car, Jean's instincts screamed that something bad would happen right now.  
In Evermore, the presence of another boy in his bed had always resulted in violence, humiliation and pain. Even when Riko had taken it upon himself to chain Josten to Jean‘s bedpost and put the knife in Jean‘s hand to soil his sheets for once with blood other than his own.

Jean remained in his position, his gaze lowered just enough so that he didn't have to look Knox directly in the eye, but high enough to anticipate his captain's movements to prepare himself. His heart raced with fear. Maybe he could escape before anything happened. Maybe he could push the other boy off him, grab his things and escape. Just get away from here and then... maybe he could change the deal to less than two months.

But nothing happened. Like at the airport, nothing happened. Knox just sat there and when Jean finally dared to lift his eyes, he saw no gloating or sadism in his captain's face, but shocked concern. Wide and frightened blue eyes stared at him and told him how significant the difference between Riko and Knox was.

"I...just...wanted..." Knox began, swallowing against the lump in his throat. "I'm sorry, Jean. Please, I didn't mean...I just wanted to show you..."  
Like a drowning man, Jean clung to the differences his logical thinking brought up between the two captains. The appearance, completely different. The behaviour, a difference like day and night. The thoughts, too... right?  
Jean swallowed hard against his racing heartbeat.

Despite Knox's open admission that he liked and fucked men, he was not assaulting him. Despite being his captain, he did not raise a hand against him.  
Shakily, Jean exhaled and tried to force more oxygen back into his lungs, tried to find something like a rule to hang on to.

Desperation crept onto the usually sunny face and jerkily Knox turned his laptop over, so that the screen was facing Jean, although he couldn‘t make out much through his narrowed field of vision.   
What he did recognise was colourful and squeaky.  
"Here, I wanted to show you this. I have pictures on my accounts. Lots of them... of our team, my family, me, the neighbourhood. I didn't mean..." Knox‘s voice trailed off again and he fell silent, lowering his gaze to something so trivial it would have made Jean snort at any other time.

Now, however, he took advantage of every distraction that came his way and focused his attention on the coloured spots that were gradually becoming clear images. Anything that woulg get him away from his memories was good.  
Jean cleared his throat, still not really able to break free of his position.  
"Show...show me," he pressed out, rough, inhuman, unrecognisable even to his ears. It was a request, even if he struggled to articulate it.

"I can also get up, go back to my bed, that's no problem at all, then you can browse through them on your own. As you wish, Jean. You don't even need to look at them, really. You can tell me if you don’t want to or if you don’t like it," his captain babbled on in quick bursts and Jean had the feeling that he would get a headache just from the speed of the words Knox was squeezing out of his mouth.

His thoughts, however, were not troubled by them. Like hungry predators, they pounced on the sentences that were supposed to calm him down. Riko had never said things like that. Not once. Jean wasn't meant to voice his wishes in Evermore and suddenly, they were important, even to his captain. Did he want Knox to sit here or did he prefered him to be somewhere else?

Of course he preferred Knox not to be so close to him at this moment, but as much as Jean had been frightened by the abrupt closeness, he hated the memories that were responsible for that and the fear that came with it. He hated the feeling which was deeply rooted in him, so abysmally that he rebelled against it. With everything in his power, he rebelled against it and held up a mirror to that very fear with a sneer. Just as he had spoken French when he was near Riko, just as he had whispered to Josten again and again not to sign the contract, he remained here, denying Knox's suggestion.

"No." No more than a croak it was...at first. "No, stay," he also managed at least the beginnings of a sentence a few moments later.  
"Are you sure this is okay?"  
If Knox only knew how much that simple question cut deep into his soul and filled Jean with disbelief. Abby had asked that. Renee had asked that. And now Knox, too.  
Jean nodded curtly as he stared at the screen, his gaze flicking up only briefly.

It was enough to see the cautious reluctance that followed the dread he had apparently evoked in his captain. Jean swallowed.

"Do you want to stay seated like that?"  
It was a yes for now. Maybe the whole evening, too. Jean needed the wall at his back now, as an assurance that he had no one behnd him, that no one could get to him so easily. That was the admission he had to make to himself. Stealthily, he hid his fingers between his chest and his thighs.

Belatedly, Jean nodded and Knox turned the screen so that he could reach his keyboard. Without hesitating, his captain devoted himself to his new task. Unsteady hands enlarged one of the pictures and Knox began quiet, halting explanations that Jean did not understand. Not yet. Just now he let himself be lulled by the pure sound of the voice, so much different from the voices he had heard in the presence of other boys in his bed.

Knox guided him through the site, explaining the basic functions based on a few pictures. He zoomed into pictures that flooded Jean with such a plethora of life that he could hardly keep up to take in all the details.  
There were pictures of the team hugging each other and grinning sweatily at the camera like there was nothing better than Exy. Jean recognised many of the players. He marvelled at the grins he saw, as if Exy was nothing important and something to have fun with. Knox told him names, which Jean let wash through him because they weren't important. He wouldn't remember them in the time he was here anyway.

With a soft smile, his captain showed him the photos of his family and the farm. Two younger sisters, twins that Jean couldn't tell apart, even though it was apparently obvious according to Knox. Father, mother, two older brothers, all blond, only their eyes were different colors. They were all enthroned in the midst of the farm and its animals. Jean saw horses, cows, pigs, dogs, cats and chickens. Geese that had strayed into the house.  
The landscape was as vast as Knox had described and Jean had imagined it, and the image of the red-hot sunset awakened a thrill in him that he couldn't really place at first.

It was quite the opposite to the images of the Trojans on the beach. Half-naked, tanned and so carefree that it was almost negligent. How could anyone waste their time like that and not work out or practice? Jean coulnd't understand that, even though he remembered Knox's words all too well. The destructive rhythm of Evermore did not exist here. In Los Angeles, people went with the flow of the sun. Here it was possible to have free time. it was possible to hang out at the beach.

Here it was allowed to eat everything and Jean saw that too in the pictures, which showed lots of food he had never seen before in his life. He recognized the two young women who had eaten breakfast with them, sitting in front of a huge bowl of pasta, Knox in the background, grinning broadly.

And he saw pictures of opposing players with whom his captain got along well. There were countless of them, taken before and after the games. The picture of Day and Knox, however, forced Jean to look away, because he could not bear to see the joy and affection in the Fox's eyes, which the latter apparently felt for Knox and which Knox certainly reciprocated.

While Knox was explaining, Jean actually found something like peace.   
The trembling of his limbs subsided and his hands came out of their hiding place behind his knees onto the mattress. He even relaxed his legs a little, though he was still far from arranging them comfortably. More and more often, he glanced briefly at Knox as he explained trivialities that were more or less unimportant. Still, Jean had listened to him and was now tossing these details back and forth in his mind. The goose that had ventured onto the kitchen table was named Eva. Who named their animals like that?

Jean was even relaxed enough to frown now as Knox tried to introduce him to Twitter and to convince him of the benefits of having his own account.  
Jean cleared his throat. "140 characters to tell the world about oneself on a website that has a bird for a logo, with a hash mark for keywords, which are called hashtags?" he summarized what Knox had just told him.  
Knox‘s uncertainty had also subsided in the time being and he smiled excitedly. "Exactly!"  
"Why would I do that?" The smile died and Knox became almost desperate.  
"So you can share."  
Jean wondered if he should repeat his question.

"Look, you can write stuff like this!", Knox showed him his own - as Jean now knew - tweets. Tweeting, what a strange yet fitting translation for the meaningless sentences he had posted online and received an astonishing number of hearts - likes - for. And further tweets - retweets. Jean wasn't convinced by this kind of communication, especially since Alvarez, that was the name of the dark-haired girl from this morning, replied to Knox with equally meaningless things and got likes for it as well.

"Am I expected to write such things?" Jean questioned, fervently hoping that it wouldn't be expected of him or that Knox would maintain Jean's account.  
"Only if you want to, Jean."  
He shook his head. He could maybe imagine uploading pictures, though that sense also eluded him. But telling people how he had felt during his games or in his free time, like Knox did, that was unthinkable to him.  
"Then you don't need it. I'd recommend claiming your account for yourself, though. Then you'll have something official. You don't have to use it, and if you play Exy professionally, you can have your agent manage to do the proper PR."

Jean blinked and stared surprised at Knox, who cleared his throat in embarrassment. "If you want to go pro at all. I thought because you're so excellent and the best backliner in our league and from Evermore and...I mean the...the perfect court..."  
Apparently it was one of Knox's traits that he talked a lot of nonsense when he was nervous. It was something that united him with Hemmick, and Jean tightened his lips at the memory of spending the evening in the Fox's grip.  
Knox, of course, referred to it to himself. "Not ok? Sorry, I didn't think you were doing anything different. If I‘ve offended you in any way by saying that, I apologize."  
"It's fine," Jean rebuffed. His plans had never gone beyond his college graduation. He hadn't worried about his future because he hadn't had one.

And now?

"You said there were other programs and websites," Jean deflected from the subject, regretting it for every single one of the next twenty minutes, during which Knox gave him a headache-inducing crash course through seemingly every social media channel there was, but all of which were nonsensical and useless. A program that deleted pictures on its own shortly after posting them online? Why?

"Shall I also give you a brief introduction to online banking?" asked Knox in conclusion, and Jean looked up. Between all the useless stuff, this was still the most useful thing. Jean nodded accordingly and was rewarded with a smile.

"Have you ever had an online banking account?"  
Jean shook his head and Knox raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Okay...so you did your transfers offline?" When Jean denied that as well, his captain tilted his head questioningly, apparently waiting for an explanation he couldn't give.  
"Okay. Did you have an agent do that for you in Evermore?"  
Jean was more confused by the question than he was willing to admit. An agent? "I didn't have an account. The finances were handled by the Master," he specified, and Knox looked up from his laptop so quickly his neck cracked. Jean wondered if that would be healthy.

"Excuse me?" Knox inquired, apparently hoping he had misheard, and Jean shrugged. In a slow, careful movement, he crossed his arms in front of his chest.  
"Is it different here?" Jean inquired, seeing the answer already on Knox's face before the other boy even opened his mouth.  
"Definetely! We have our own accounts that no one else has access to. Like Coach Rhemann said."

Jean nodded, even though he already suspected that he wouldn't really understand that concept either. Why would someone like him have access to money? He didn't need it, so it would be perfectly sufficient if Coach Rhemann made the necessary expenditures and kept the rest. But the determination in Knox's eyes kept Jean from pursuing the subject any further.

"Well, here we go," Knox rubbed his fingers together, and Jean really wasn't sure at that moment if that was a a promise or a threat. A moment later he was sure it was the latter, but one that wouldn't bring him pain. At least not pain that was the result of violence.

It brought him a headache, because by the time Knox was done explaining, his mind was buzzing with knowledge Jean had acquired. He now knew he had a credit card and an online bank account. He knew how to make transfers and check how much money he had left. He had also seen how much money was already on it and that it was the amount of his scholarship.

When Knox had retreated to the bathroom for a moment, Jean got up and went to the bowl the lawyer had given him. In it there were still the two envelopes, from which he now took the one already opened one and thoughtfully pulled out the card and the accompanying letter.  
He did what he had just learned from Knox with the data he found here, and waited for the window to build up that would tell him how much the Moriyamas thought his disgrace was worth.

When it showed on screen, Jean couldn't help but stare. He took only a passing notice that Knox stepped out of the bathroom again. That his captain said his name was equally irrelevant at this moment. Jean was captivated by the number he saw on the screen. The meaning of it was instantly clear to him and it was pure mockery and derision staring back at him. So that's how much his pain had been worth? His humiliation and degradation? The nightmares he still had about it?

"Jean?" Concern wormed its way to him and he looked up blindly. The change in position put Knox behind him, and right now Jean was far too numb with the rest of his emotions to care. From his position, Knox was able to have a perfect view of the screen and in the latter's face Jean saw exactly the disturbed emotions he felt deep inside of himself.

Jean didn't even know that Knox could turn so pale, his eyes so big, and that the other boy could actually run out of words.

"Jean?" his captain finally croaked, and Jean averted his eyes, back to the screen that was telling him his worth. The value of his disgrace.

Five million dollars.

~~~~~~~~  
To be continued.

Chapter 12

Jeremy stared at the screen as if it could give him the answer to all of his questions that rose to alarming numbers. He stared until he realized that he was standing far too close and too threatening towards Jean. He practically loomed over him, certainly causing discomfort.

Jeremy remembered all too clearly how Jean had backed away from him in panic and fear. There had been panic in his gray eyes, fear of him, while Jean had made himself small and had protected his body. From him. From the expected violence.  
Jeremy remembered their second day, that cruel moment when he had seen Jean kneeling before him, his forehead on the floor. 

What on earth did they do to you? Jeremy asked Jean again and again in his thoughts, his heart bleeding, as he himself struggled with guilt. He had been stupid to react so impulsively and get in Jean's personal space. He hadn't been thinking when he had let himself fall on the bed to a boy whose hair had been torn out by this late captain.

Jean had paid for his stupidity and that hurt Jeremy more than anything.

Mindful of this, he now stepped slowly around Jean and settled carefully at the head of his bed so that Jean had a good view of him and could see what Jeremy was doing.

"That's a lot of money," Jeremy finally smiled more confidently than he felt. Yet he had to somehow dissolve the tension that had reappeared, and if it was a silly comment that evoked something else, so be it. As it seemed, he had no success with it at first, but then the piercing eyes turned on him and Jeremy almost wished he hadn't attracted Jean's attention.

Much worse, however, was that Jean said not a word, showing Jeremy only a glimpse of his emotions. The hatred he found there frightened him, even though he was almost certain it wasn't directed at him.

"Actually, one million of it should belong to you," was the first thing to leave Jean's lips. Confused, Jeremy frowned.  
"Why? It's your money, you earned it. Didn't you...?" he hesitantly added when the backliner winced visibly.  
"Earned it..." Jean echoed tonelessly. "I earned it."

Now it was pure, unadulterated hatred directed solely at Jeremy. Scorn beyond the limits of what was bearable. The silence that now stood between them was icy, Jean's movements robotic and not really human. Awkwardly, he logged off the website, even more awkwardly, he pushed the laptop away from him before getting up and leaving the bedroom without uttering a sound. Not a minute later, Jeremy heard the door to their apartment being yanked open and slammed shut with such force that the glasses in their closet rattled.

Thunderstruck, Jeremy sat on his roommate's bed and stared at the door, stunned. What the hell had he done wrong?  
He swallowed and remained on the bed, hoping Jean would come back when he had calmed down. When he would tell Jeremy what he had done and said wrong.

But nothing happened and it was exactly 28 minutes before Jeremy had the courage to reach for his cell phone and pick up Kevin's contact. Another six minutes before he actually called the Fox.

"Hi Jeremy!" He was greeted with a smile that had always captivated him even before their friendship had developed. He had gladly accepted the challenge it contained from the beginning. Now, however, he shied away from that very challenge and waved bashfully.

"How’s it going?" he chimed in, first diverting the conversation from the topic at hand. Kevin raised his eyebrow and gave Jeremy the non-verbal indication that he had definitely seen through the delaying tactic and was not snorting only out of politeness. Quizzically, he tilted his head.  
"Better than you by the looks of it. I just stole away from a room party with the monsters and the junkie, so no great loss."  
"You're no great loss!", Jeremy heard a more distant interjection from the background and he grinned. If he wasn't mistaken, that was Neil Josten, damn fast striker with a damn big mouth. Alvarez had a playlist of all his best answers to reporters' questions on her computer, which she used to torture him quite regularly.

Not that Jeremy could have ever been persuaded to allow her to deal with the press in the same way.

At that thought, Jeremy paused for more than a second. So far he had pushed away the necessity of press duty. But it would be necessary, just as it would be necessary for Jean to say a few words, which, he realized, had never been the case in the past. Every press statement had been made by Riko or Kevin, but never by Jean.

Oh fucking damn shit.

"So how's Neil?" he asked, if only to distract himself from the problem and buy a little more time.  
"He doesn't know when it's good for him to shut up and is stuffing unhealthy stuff down his throat. Don't worry about it. If he keeps this up, he won't be a serious rival for you next season."  
"And even if he is, we've got Jean," Jeremy grinned back, though it didn't last long. It only took a few seconds for it to disappear and he thought of what had happened tonight. "Kevin... I think I did something stupid," Jeremy introduced the real reason for their video chat. Kevin eyed him with concern in his face.  
"I don't think so, Jeremy. But go ahead. Tell me what happened."

Jeremy considered leaving things out, but ultimately decided against it. He told Kevin everything from the visit of the Moriyamas to Jean's panicked flinching, the amount of money and his words that had made Jean so angry that he had left their flat without another word. Kevin listened patiently without interrupting him and in turn took a while to digest the information afterwards.

"Kev, I'm afraid I said something really bad, but he earned that money, didn't he? It's for his games at Evermore, his sports scholarship, the Edgar Allan is rich after all...", Jeremy started babbling as he always did when he was stuck oder nervous. Kevin shook his head.  
"No, the money is not for the games. This was withheld from Evermore, at least as far as he was concerned."  
Jeremy swallowed hard.  
"And what did he mean by saying I was entitled to a million of it? I didn't had anything to do with it. We didn't even really meet until a fortnight ago."  
Kevin frowned. "How much did you say was in the account?"  
"Five."

It took Kevin Day less than two minutes for the significance of those numbers to dawn on him. Jeremy could tell that just by the colour of his face, which went from a healthy tone to an ashen grey. What Jeremy recognised in his eyes was first and foremost sadness, then regret and finally overwhelming pain.

Had he thought Kevin would share his knowledge with him, Jeremy was wrong.

Impatiently, he motioned for Kevin to continue, but he was met with silent refusal. "What is it? What did I do wrong?" he inquired about it and Kevin snorted.  
"Nothing, Jer. You didn't do anything wrong." The guilt and desperation in Kevin's voice set all his alarm bells ringing.  
"But why did he say something like that?"  
"Jean has been...," Kevin began and then fell silent. He swallowed several times before starting again. "Riko did many bad things to Jean. Among them, many unforgivable things."  
Jeremy nodded. For him, the missing hair was unforgivable. Or the scars around Jean's wrists.  
"He did some things out of hatred or jealousy. When I first met you and I told him once too often that I found your way of playing impressive. Riko punished Jean for my admiration."

Horrified, Jeremy put a hand over his mouth. He didn't even want to imagine what that meant. Nor what Jean had had to suffer as a result. The cruelness not only towards Jean but also to Kevin shocked him again.  
"The numbers combined with Jean's words is an indication that it is in some way hush money. Jean didn't earn that, he had to suffer for that, every terrible second."  
Jeremy rubbed his face in frustration. "I'm so stupid," he muttered.  
"No, Jeremy, you're a wonderful person who cares about his team. You haven't done anything wrong. If anyone did something wrong, it's me. I should have told you more about Jean."  
Jeremy sighed, "You should have told me he was scared of me, Kev."  
This surprised Kevin at first, but finally, he shook his head. "I don't think he's scared of you. He's afraid of his coach and his team captain. But it's more like he's afraid of the power that comes from those people. He's afraid of strangers he doesn't know and situations he's unfamiliar with."

"I envy Renee that he is so familiar with her," Jeremy surprised Kevin and himself with his admission. It was actually bitterness he felt at the thought of their phone call and the backliner's openness towards Renee. "He's not afraid of her."  
The gentleness that flit across Kevin's face spoke for itself. "Because she saved him and never got tired of overcoming or penetrating every single one of his walls."  
"Are you telling me to be as stubborn as her?"  
Kevin considered that for a moment. "Yeah. He's worth it."  
Jeremy raised an eyebrow. "To be stubborn as hell?"  
"Not giving up. Jean is a wonderful person who deserves more than anyone to finally be happy in his life. If I could, I would..."

That was as far as Kevin got when the mobile phone was abruptly snatched from his hand. Minyard, again, whose icy, disinterested calm sent shivers down Jeremy's spine.  
"Captain Sunshine here, Captain Sunshine there, Captain Sunshine on the phone again. You'd think Captain Sunshine had moved in with us as often as his ghost haunts the derelict halls of Foxtower," the blond boy snarled disinterestedly. "You'd better ask yourself if the Raven is even worth the effort you're making."

With that, he hung up and Jeremy stared perplexed at his screen, long enough for Kevin to check in again after a few minutes, an angry rumble on his lips.  
"And I'm telling you, he's worth it. Every single cell in his body is!"  
Mutely Jeremy nodded and Kevin took his leave with a promise of a phone call tomorrow once he had spoken to Jean.

Whose mobile phone was now pinging in the background as the home screen lit up garishly. Jeremy glanced in its direction and frowned when the message text was just a number. 51, whatever that meant. Jeremy couldn't make out the person who had sent the message.

Jeremy sighed and flopped back on his own bed. He would stay awake until Jean returned and talk to him. He needed to talk to him before he introduced him to their team tomorrow, he needed to apologise and promise that he wouldn't do it again.  
With each half hour that passed, Jeremy grew more tired until he finally fell asleep. In the middle of the night he woke up to find Jean's bed still untouched. He postponed his plan until the next morning, but when he woke up, Jean was still not there.

~~**~~

The first sunrise Jean saw outdoors here in California ended a night full of doubts, dark thoughts and questions he had asked himself, but which only one person could currently answer. That person slept below him in the house the Trojans lived in and would wake up in an hour, or so Jean estimated.

In his hasty escape he had forgotten to take his mobile phone with him, so Jean had been entirely on his own for the dark hours of the night. He didn't have his countdown, which would assure him that there was a finite number of days. But much worse had been the fact that he hadn't been able to contact Renee.

So he had to work out with himself what those words had done to him. Knox had said that Jean had earned it. He had been cruel and honest and Jean had lost control of himself for a moment. At that moment he wanted to hit his captain. Again and again, until he would have apologised for his words and for what he had done just by being there. By just being good enough to be adored by the famous Kevin Day. At the same time, he would have liked to shout at him what he thought it would be like to be raped. Again and again, despite and because of all his resistance. He had wanted to scream in his captain's face how he had felt when they had undressed him against his will, touched him against his will and forced him to have sexual intercourse against his will.

He had done neither of those things, but had fled to the roof of the house, which would be high enough for him to jump down and put an end to it all.  
Jean had really sat there for a long time, staring into the void that had tantalisingly called out to him. For hours he had let his legs dangle, his upper body bent forward and yet each time he had stopped himself from jumping.

What exactly it was he couldn't say until dawn broke and Jean was still puzzled by the train of thought that had broken the vicious circle of Riko's and Knox's words. What if Knox hadn't meant it was his fault at all and that he deserved to be paid like a whore? What if Knox didn't know anything about it because Day hadn't said anything, precisely because the dark-haired boy didn't care what had been done to Jean? What if Knox's words referred to the amount and not what was behind it?

Jean did what he would never have done with Riko. He took it upon himself to ask his captain about his motives in order to get some clarity. Perhaps he was lucky and would get an answer. 

With frightening clarity, however, he had also become aware of something else. This money, the amount of which Jean could not even grasp with his thoughts, was the golden varnish that would hold together and refine the shards of his being. That was why the lawyer had given him the vase, which had been repaired in the art of kintsugi.

Riko had always mocked this ancient tradition, noting with disdain that broken things could be thrown away and replaced with new, unbroken things. He was the broken thing, the black shards and the five million were the clear coat. Together they were to make a beautiful new piece that blossomed into new splendour in homage to culture and values.

Disdainfully, Jean sent his suicidal intentions silently towards West Virginia. Their oh-so-valuable vase would shatter into a million tiny pieces, irretrievably destroyed yet full of peace. But not yet. 51 days to go. Or was it only fifty by now? His mobile phone would be able to tell him, for he had certainly already gotten a message.

Next to him, a seagull landed on the balustrade and eyed him in its search for food. It was smaller than the ones in Marseille, although Jean was not sure about that. Perhaps they had seemed bigger to him then because he had been so small himself.  
"Go," Jean tried to shoo it away, but neither his voice nor his words persuaded it to fly away. The only thing he managed was for the seagull to dodge him and then, when he wasn't looking, to come back.

Jean grumbled. "I have nothing to eat," he felt compelled to say, hoping that no one would notice that he was talking to a pushy bird as if it understood him. As if… he was speaking in his mother language as he always did when he was alone. A years-long act of rebellion, so to speak.  
He received a deep croak in reply and snorted. "Go back to the sea where you belong, you pushy bird."

As soon as the words left his mouth, Jean realised how good they felt. He could be open and honest, he could insult this bird in his native tongue without fear of being beaten for it.  
The seagull came closer again and a soft cry told him that he was not scary enough. Stunned, Jean raised his hands.  
"No. If you want something to eat, go fly somewhere else! Stop bothering me."  
It hopped backwards a few steps as he shooed it away with his hands and continued to eye him. They spent a while in silence, at a proper distance from each other, then the bird came closer again.

Jean groaned and rolled with his eyes. "You are just like him, you know that? Maybe I should call you by his name, huh?" Yes, why not, really. No one heard him here and now after all, and all the frustration of the last few days with his new captain, who was a mystery to him, was breaking through.  
"You're a Jeremy," Jean decided, crossing his arms as he uttered the name aloud for the first time. He tasted how his captain's first name felt on his tongue. Soft, melodic even, when he put the emphasis on the last syllable. And how it fitted. A ravenous seagull that got too close, and whenever he got sloppy, launched the next attempt, refusing to be turned away.

"Sorry, but it's a she and her name is Laila," someone said behind him and Jean wheeled around in horror, just in time for a piece of fruit to fly against his forehead and be scooped up and gobbled down by Jeremy-Laila.  
The seagull's enthusiastic cry accompanied his wildly beating heart and his unmoving stare.  
Alvarez, that was her name, approached him with a bag of fruits in her hand and eyed him with a challenging smile. "She bothers you because you sit in my spot, Moreau, and because I always feed her. Emphasis on always. And on I. So take it nice and slow with your complaints."

Rather perplexed, Jean stared at the girl as she lured the seagull away from him and fed it piece after piece. He swallowed dryly and weighed in his mind whether it made sense to bring up the subject again and ask her not to tell their captain that he had spoken French so that he would not be punished.  
All that came out was a pressed, "You speak my language?"  
Alvarez shrugged. "Enough to understand you, you French prodigy."  
Jean folded his arms. "Please...don't tell Knox." He would punish him if his captain found out he was using a language he probably didn't understand. Unpleasant memories came back to him as he thought of how he hadn't been able to eat for three days when Riko had first beaten him up for speaking French.

"What?" asked Alvarez into his thoughts. "That you don't sound half as angry in your native tongue as when you speak English?"  
Irritated, Jean blinked and was silent for a confused moment. He didn't. Besides, that wasn't the point here. "Won't it make him angry?" he inquired cautiously, and Alvarez raised an eyebrow.  
"Angry?"  
Jean grumbled inwardly. "Because he doesn't understand what I’m saying."  
The girl at his side laughed loudly. She wrinkled her nose and put her head back before leaning forward towards him. "But Jer doesn't. On the contrary. He will cling to your lips and ask you to speak only French to him, without him understanding one word, of course. Believe me, you don't want to open that particular Pandora's box."

Jean technically heard her words, but struggled to understand them. Knox would be pleased and invite him to speak in a language foreign to him? That was such an antithesis to Riko and Evermore that Jean wondered for a moment how that could even be.

"Why do you call the animal Laila?" he asked, if only to distract himself from the subject to which he had no answer for.  
"If I say she's just as greedy, that wouldn't be nice. So I'm saying she's just as hand tamed as my lovely girlfriend."  
"That's not nice either."  
"Matter of opinion. It's the same with me."

Jean tried to make some sense of her words, but even that context eluded him. Alvarez smiled smugly.  
"That's called a relationship, Moreau. You should try it sometime. Or do you have one already?"  
He blinked. A relationship? Surely he had no right to have something like that. Snorting, he averted his gaze and Alvarez settled down beside him when the bag was empty and the bird had convinced itself of that three times. The ungrateful critter didn't even stay a minute longer before flying away.

"What brings you to the lofty heights of our home?" the dark-haired young woman at his side asked. She would also be standing next to him on the court. She wasn't entirely incompetent, although Jean certainly saw considerable space for improvement there.  
"Silence," he returned and she laughed.  
"Ah, he won’t shut up, our beloved captain?"  
Jean shrugged his shoulders. Criticism of the captain was dangerous and would only lead to pain.  
"He's like that when he's nervous and wants to please someone."

That surprised Jean then and he dared to look into her dark brown eyes. "I mean, hey, thinking about the sudden transfer of the best backliner in the league from the best team in the league to the third best team looking like he's been hit by a car... he can be nervous about what that might mean." Her smile was anything but friendly and Jean swallowed hard. He knew what she was implying.  
"I'm not a spy," he replied quietly.  
"Didn't say that with a single word. I don't think you are."  
"Then what do you believe?"  
"That dead asshole called Riko did to you what he did to Kevin Day, only he didn't break your hand, but ripped out patches of your hair and mutilated you with a knife."

Meaningfully, her gaze slid towards his hair and Jean realised with sudden, bottomless horror that he was only wearing his shirt, not his beanie or hoodie. In all clarity, Alvarez saw the disaster on his head. In all clarity she saw his arms and hands covered with scars, the bandages still fresh. She had let on nothing when she had come to the roof. Nothing at all.

He winced as if she had burned him.

"Listen, Mr. Thundercloud." Jean stared into her eyes, stunned. Thunder...what? "The Trojans stand for friendship and loyalty. We protect each other. We don't let anything happen to our friends or our team. More than that. We don't tolerate violence and we stand against it." She paused, apparently waiting for him to say something in response. Jean wouldn't know what, so he kept silent. It took a while, then she nodded.

"I never really took the rumours about Evermore for real. But the only thing I immediately believed were the questionable training methods and cult-like displays you showed at the banquets and on the court."

Jean snorted. "That's what Josten said."  
The dark eyes lit up. "I found it very interesting that he had the number four tattooed on his cheek after the winter break. How come?"  
"Riko forced it on him."  
"Like you got the number three and Kevin got the number two?"  
Before he could stop himself, Jean nodded.  
"Disgusting," she judged after a while and he shrugged his shoulders. Yes, it had been when they had held him down to tattoo the three on him. It had been disgusting that he had had to hold Neil Josten down while Riko had written the four on his cheek. The perfect court.

"No one here is going to hurt you, Moreau. Not Jer, not me, not Laila, no one. And no one will brand you, even though I can't wait to decorate you like a Christmas tree with Trojan merchandise."

Jean should have laughed at her words, but he didn't feel like it. Now, at this moment, he would rather pretend to believe them, as if that were the rule of thumb for the days and weeks ahead. And if he was honest... the idea of such a team something impossible he drew strength from mentally.

"Honestly, Moreau... I'll give you two weeks and you'll be crawling up the walls because of our friendliness and love."

Jean raised his eyebrows. "Is that a threat?" he asked coolly and Alvarez laughed.  
"That's a realistic assessment from a Jean Moreau fangirl who has spent a little too much time devouring every article about this tall, silent and talented backliner."

Like so much else, this made no sense to Jean and he turned his gaze towards the sun. "I'm leaving," he said and she shrugged.  
"I won't stop you." Alvarez frowned. "But..."  
Jean raised an eyebrow.  
"Laila doesn't know about her namesake and I want to keep it that way. If you keep your mouth shut, I'll keep mine shut, deal?"  
Surprised, Jean eyed her. Another deal? But that was not the only thing that surprised him. With the Ravens, any admission of weakness had been unforgivable. Alvarez was so free with her own weakness that Jean wondered at first if it was a trap. He concluded that in all likelihood it was not and he finally inclined his head.  
"Deal," he agreed and awkward silence fell between them, which Jean finally ended by actually standing up and turning away to leave.

He had almost reached the entrance to the attic when she held him back once more.  
"Hey, Moreau."  
Jean hummed without turning around.  
"If that fucker of a captain wasn't already dead, I'd let him eat his racquet for what he did."

It was a good thing she didn't see his face just then, Jean thought. His smile was his and his alone. Always had been.

~~**~~

As he entered the flat, Jean heard a rumble coming from the bedroom and something falling to the floor. Not a second later, a blonde mop of hair popped into his field of vision, blue eyes wide and full of worry.  
Jean just had time to take off his shoes and get into the kitchen when he was also in full focus of his captain lurking nearby, from whose mouth spouted so many hasty words that Jean really had trouble following them for the first moment.

"...and that's why I want to ask you to forgive me because I was really stupid and ignorant and didn't think and that certainly hurt you and..."

His captain fell silent and, confused, Jean stared at Knox, who had come so close to him during his speech that Jean could comfortably look down at him and he himself had to put his head back. The captain's posture was open, his arms at his sides and relaxed. Knox had had a fresh shower, Jean could smell and see that. Just as he saw that the boy's tan was not only on his face, but also on his upper body. Knox wasn't wearing a t-shirt, so Jean could also see the physical evidence of how athletic the Trojans' captain was. There wasn't an ounce of fat, just muscle on his scar-free skin.

"It's okay," Jean simply said, hoping he wasn't provoking another flood of words.  
Hopefully, Knox lifted his chin. "Really?"  
"Yes."  
"And you're not angry with me?"

Now, at this moment, Jean found it difficult to comprehend his thoughts of the night. To imply that Knox had said it deliberately was apparently so far removed from reality that Jean wondered how he could have made such an error of judgement. And how many times more he was going to make such miscalculations.  
Jean thought about his captain's last question. His seemingly inexhaustible energy sought an outlet at all hours of the day and night, but unlike Riko, it did not manifest itself in sadism or violence. Where Riko was destruction, Knox was pure life.

How could he be angry with life?

"No, I'm not," Jean replied when he realised his silence was making Knox uneasy and sighed when that simple sentence brought out exuberant joy in his captain. So much joy that his Knox‘s gestures and facial expressions clearly communicated to Jean that he would have loved to hug him at that moment. He prepared himself for the worst, but nothing came. Knox abruptly relaxed his entire posture and clasped his hands behind his back, bouncing with energy.

Embarrassed, he cleared his throat and Jean waited silently to see if he was planning something else instead of a hug. This was apparently not the case, even though Knox made no move to avoid him.  
"Is there something else?" he asked when the silence became too much for him. He, of all people, had perfected making others uncomfortable with his silence.  
"No," Knox replied and Jean realised that the innocence with which his captain said it was really just that: innocence. It was not a game he was playing. Jean sighed.  
"Will you let me pass?" he finally asked, and Knox's lips formed into a surprised "Oh!"  
Yes, oh. Just that.

As he stepped past his captain, he had the image of the seagull named Jeremy-Laila clearly in his head.

~~**~~

In the last two months Jean had experienced so many things for the first time that by now he was about to lose track of all the things he had never done before. He wished he had a book to write them down, but he didn't want to ask Knox about it. He didn't know how to get to the supermarket they had been in at the beginning, let alone how to leave campus without a partner.

Jean corrected himself. He couldn't ask Knox about it right now because they were both at the Exy Stadium. They, Coach Rhemann and the rest of the Trojans. That in itself was a first, but the more disconcerting thing was that all players but Jean were wearing training clothes because it was the first practice of the season. For the first time Jean was present at a training session without taking an active part in it. For the first time he was sitting on the bench, banished there by the doctor who gave too much importance to his injuries for him to be allowed to practice. This was ridiculous given the fact that he had played with broken ribs and fingers, with knife wounds, that had made him see stars.

But now he stood silently beside his captain, watching the USC Trojans slowly settle in and marvelling at the calm with which Coach Rhemann greeted the latecomers. The Master would never have tolerated such indiscipline. The Ravens had never been unpunctual, the strict schedule had been known by all players. Of course, there had been exceptions, but these had been severely punished.

"So, everyone here?" asked Coach Rhemann in contrast with a smile as the last one, a small, petite girl, jogged up to them and grinned coyly. Jean didn't know what he despised more at that moment: her stupidity or the coach's lack of control over his team.

Whichever it was, it didn't distract him from the looks he was getting. Jean saw them out of the corner of his eye or when he unexpectedly turned his eyes in one direction. Apparently, those already initiated had kept tight-lipped about his being here. Jean saw two boys whispering and pointing none to inconspicuous at him. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand and he stared angrily at the two until they lowered their eyes and shut their mouths.

Jean averted his gaze and payed attention to a player standing next to the giant he had met in the mall. He was being eyed almost hateful and Jean tried to remember the face. Did he know him? Had they met before?

Jean listened attentively and tensely to the coach's speech, which he delivered in a friendly manner and with more humour than he had ever heard in his life. There were apparently some newcomers, but also many upperclass men who were a well-established team and who would guide the newcomers and set them a good example, as Knox assured them.

In Jean's eyes, this was a complete waste.

Everyone knew what they were here for and what task they had to accomplish together. There was no need for big, long-winded speeches. And no damn round of introductions either, where everyone was supposed to share their name, their year and their Exy experiences. Every single one was applauded and received a welcome from all. If anyone had dared to do that at Evermore....

The thought was idle, as for now this was his hell. His imaginary hell, Jean corrected himself as all eyes turned to him.

Wasn't that exactly why Riko had branded him with the number three? So that everyone knew what he was? Who he belonged to? Number three, backliner for the Ravens. Not any more. Number seven here, backliner for the Trojans.  
Jean gritted his teeth. "'Jean Moreau. Backliner. Transferred to USC from the Edgar Allan," he said tersely, seeing in the corner of his eye the proud grin of his captain.

His words were followed by a silence so loud that one could have heard a needle drop. An uneasy feeling crept up in Jean like a prowling predator. They were assessing him, trying to gauge his vulnerabilities and how far they could go before he broke. They would approach their captain with their preferences and ask if he was available.  
Jean was sure of it.

Therefore, the sudden loud applause and enthusiastic shouting of the boys and girls around him startled him more than he was prepared to admit. Perplexed, he looked around and dared to look at the faces beaming at him, some of them in awe, in joy. About him and him being here, as if he belonged to them and was one of them.  
"That's cool! The best backliner in the league is with us!"  
"No shit, we'll never lose any game again!"  
"Our goalkeepers are going to be unemployed, you hear that, Dermott?"  
"Woho, you're even scarier than you are on the court! Badass, man! And so big."  
"The season is ours, Captain!"  
"Red-gold are the best colours!"

Jean blinked uncomprehendingly and against his will his gaze drifted to Knox, who answered him with an amused shrug and a wink. The girl next to him - Alvarez, Jean reminded himself - was no better.  
"I told you, Mr. Thundercloud," she said quietly enough that no one but her, Knox and him heard, and Jean consistently averted his eyes when Knox opened his mouth.

Jean kept it that way for the rest of the training session, which he spent alongside the coach, who gave him an introduction to the team, how they worked and how they played and trained. Calm and collected, Coach Rhemann explained to Jean all that was difficult for him to grasp. Why they had such a short warm-up. Why the endurance training took a fraction of the time it had taken at Evermore. Why the slackness in drills and exercises was not punished and why their coach just looked at this incompetence and took notes.  
He explained the team dynamics and Jean was ready to crawl up the stadium walls after the three hours he had stood next to Rhemann and suffered.

This wasn't training. This wasn't even Exy. This was a collection of amateur athletes laughing and joking with each other and turning dodging drills into games of tag without being reprimanded for it.

Jean was horrified and he wondered in all seriousness how bad he himself must have been that Knox had been able to get around him.

Sweaty and red-cheeked, his new captain finally came running towards him. Why?, Jean growled inwardly. Knox wouldn't have survived two days in Evermore. Not like this. Riko would have torn him apart.  
"So, how did you like it?" the clueless boy asked, and Jean did his best to suppress his displeasure. It was not his place to criticise his captain. He wasn't allowed to. And yet he failed to smooth his frown.  
"Is the training...always like this?" he asked as neutrally as he could, apparently still critical enough that Knox smiled coyly under his scrutiny.  
"Well, we're a bit of a mess. But that will get better as the season goes on."

So nothing would get better at all. They would play their ridiculous good guy games and lose to both the Ravens and the Foxes. Anger welled up in Jean at such lack of concern. How could Knox be so lax with his team and not punish them for not following his commands or executing them carelessly?  
"Yes," Jean lied, because anything else would have put a lie to his own words and not showing his captain the respect he deserved.

"Alvarez, Laila and I are going to the diner after practice. You haven't eaten yet either...are you going to come with us?"

Jean had no choice because he couldn't be alone. But that didn't mean he didn't want to lift his captain up by his Jersey at that moment and shake him to get him off his dreadful meal plan. His hands twitched at his sides and sighing, Jean finally nodded.

~~~~~

To be continued.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, critics, kudos, subscriptions... all is welcome. :3

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to talk to me, feel free to stop by [my tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/opheliagreif). It's mostly about AFTG, Captive Prince, Master of Demonic Cultivation or The Old Guard and random rants about everything....and previews of my stories.


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